


One Foot in Front of the Other

by LauraRose, xphil98197



Series: The Sweetest Surrender [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond (Movies) RPF, James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Consensual Kink, Dom!Q, Escape, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Slow Build, Sub James Bond, Sub!Bond, Top James
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 46,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4272141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraRose/pseuds/LauraRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphil98197/pseuds/xphil98197
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ask for what I want?" He leaned down slowly, and licking his lips before drawing Q into a slow kiss, drawing it out until his toes were curling on the carpet. "That's easy... I want to forget my own name while I am screaming yours..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> LauraRose:  
> This story started as a Role Play and has spun completely out of control into what you see before you. There is sex, violence and a full spectrum of emotions, that both of us have experienced. I should imagine that most of the readers out there have too. This is an exploration of healing, that falls much deeper then sex. For someone who has experienced horrific abuse, can you imagine how hard it is to open up and learn to love? For someone who is trained and manipulated to being an emotionless machine, what must he go through to learn to let go and allow someone else to take care of him? This is our take on it. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
> 
> This madness is dedicated too the 00Q group on Facebook. We heart you all!
> 
> Xphil98197:  
> I want to say a huge thank you to LauraRose. This started as a role play, and has very quickly turned into a story of epic proportions. I get excited every time my email notification goes off! There is a warning on here for non-con, but it takes places as flash backs. Laura has been so kind as to let me exorcise some of my own demons from having been in an abusive relationship in this story. It has been very emotional for me to write about it, but I think it needs to be said. LGBT relationships are not immune from inter-partner violence, although Raoul Silva is a particularly sick asshole.  
> I'm so tired of the 50 Shades version that says that someone who likes BDSM is broken. I believe that none of us come completely whole without scars, but we don't need to be fixed.  
> A huge thank you to the Facebook 00Q group, what a fantastic group of brilliant people!

 Chapter One

He was uneasy. He was always uneasy these days but when he was watching someone's house, it was the sort of uneasiness that meant even the barely warm cup of coffee in a polystyrene mug didn't settle him down. Leaning forward, Bond peered through the window, watching the door of the apartment building.

Bond had just flown back from Cuba after busting a terrorist group who were planning to hold the world hostage through cyber crime... In doing so, he had come across a hit list, and recognized one of the photos on there as the MI6 Quartermaster. How or why the young man was on the list was beyond Bond… There was no reason on the list.

On the return to Britain, he had reported it and had been told to watch the man, and to observe. His name had been rather high on that list.

It was one wet night in October when he spotted the man with the heavy black coat and walking in a way that just caught Bond's attention, and he felt himself get out the car and follow the man inside who looked over his shoulder, saw Bond and hurried inside as if they had something to hide.

Clearly they didn't know 007, the tenacious bulldog. M had given him that ghastly thing for a reason and although it was hideous sitting on the mantelpiece in his sterile apartment, it was a daily reminder why they did what they did.

But of course, M was dead now.

The downstairs apartment was empty, he was sure of it. Q was on the third floor - he had been watching movement in there for a while. Going to the window, he used his elbow to smash the panel as quietly as he could and reached through for the latch and opened it. He slid inside and out the door into the hallways before climbing the stairs.

On the way, he screwed the silencer onto the gun before he headed for the third floor. There was no need to alert half of London that terrorists were around. Everyone was jumpy enough.

Behind the doorway the sound of fist on flesh could be heard ringing clearly. One. Two. Three. The blows were blunt trauma, hard and unforgiving. The knock brought about the only pause in the onslaught. Silence, and then voices. Was that them? Did they have Q?

With a grim sigh, Bond rocked back onto the heels of his feet as he debated what to do. Chances were that they had a gun to Q's head who, if he wasn't quite a friend, he was someone who James respected. After the hacking of MI6, he had proved himself.

Out of options, he stepped back, and kicked the door open. It crashed open with a bang and James stood there, hands folded over his stomach, looking almost demure before he stepped inside. He was alert, hard gaze sweeping and looking for the enemy that he was sure he saw.

Q sat there in his chair, still sipping his tea. The television blared, gunshots following the previous sound of fist on flesh as he blinked at Bond owlishly, but seeming unsurprised. Perhaps someone had warned him that he had a bad habit of breaking into the homes of his superiors.

Ah.

"Q?" Bond was embarrassed.

"Hello, 007," Q raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I thought... I heard fighting," Bond said. He shoved both his hands through his hair, ruffling it up. When was the last time he had slept? "They asked me to keep an eye on you, you showed up on a list. And when I heard the noises, I thought you were in danger."

"List?" Q turned pale. "Whose list?"

"Its MI6, we all end up on a list sometime,"Bond shrugged. "Mallory- I mean, M, mentioned something about known associates of Silva. Cyber terrorism."

Q backed up, curling up in a ball on the couch. He shook his head and gripped the remote control, jabbing at it ineffectively to turn off the TV.

"No... they can't find me," Q was shaking.

"Find you?" Bond was puzzled. "Q, what's wrong?"

"I can't live through that again. I would rather die."

"You're not going to die, Q," Bond said, slightly impatiently. He was trying to sound like he cared… he probably sounded more annoyed. "And no one is going to get their hands on you. Not with me here. Maybe you had better start at the beginning."

Bond moved slowly as he sat down next to Q and then moved away again, as restless as a cat. He rolled his shoulders as he stalked to the door, knocking it closed with his foot - after he glared each way down the corridor.

The door would need repair work. He would pay for it.

He went to the kitchen next and raided Q's fridge. The food went discarded, and the complete lack of alcohol went noted. Bond found the kettle and found the tea, and was soon shoving a fresh mug into the Quartermaster's hands.

Bond dropped into the seat and winced, a low, almost animal hiss coming from his lips. He twisted to look down at his left side where a maroon stain was slowly spreading on his hip.

" Ah. Q. First aid kit? Then tell me everything."

Q seemed to come back to himself. He went into the bathroom and brought back a first aid kit. His agent needed his attention, and even at home, it distracted him.

"Why are you bleeding there?" He reached under Bond’s' shirt and his hand came away wet with blood. "I know you hate medical, but this is ridiculous, 007."

"It was fine," Bond gritted his teeth as Q slid his shirt off.

"Dental floss is not appropriate material for stitches," Q scolded. "You are lucky blood doesn't bother me. Maybe you should tell me how this happened."

"It was just a scratch on my ribs in Cuba," Bond breathed noisily through his nose as Q cut the dental floss. "It would have taken more time to find a doctor than to stitch it myself. I wanted to make the plane."

The ribs were an ugly mixture of purple and green bruises. The wound was leaking, but didn't look infected. There were some ragged edges where a few stitches had ripped while Bond was breaking the door. The agent was thin, and the circles under his eyes were a dark color that matched his ribs.

"Let's get some take away, you look like you need a meal," Q efficiently sewed the skin, a neat line of stitches appearing under his hand. "At least you don't scream."

"It would take a lot more than stitches to make me scream," Bond watched Q's steady hands. "Where did you learn to do this?" The question was a fantastic distraction from his own thoughts, his own twisting emotions.

Bond could not remember the last time that he had screamed. Even when he was a child, he didn't scream. What had happened with Le Chiffre? He had yelled out then... He would not have called it screaming.

He shuddered. Denial was a wonderful thing. That whole mess was in the mental compartment that was labelled 'do not open on pain of losing your mind' and it was full to capacity. What with Vesper and now M... James Bond's finite control was slipping slowly.

He hid it behind a mask of charm, culture and sophistication. Under his shirt revealed what was going on. His ribs where beginning to protrude from lack of food. He ate to survive and that was enough. The pleasure of it was gone... Sleep was a luxury that he could not afford.

"I don't need a meal," Bond said, a little sharply. Defensively. He wasn't hungry. "What I need is a drink and for you to tell me why I found your name on a hit list?" His voice dropped, the blonde voice switching to a liquid purr that rang with danger, dripped with threat.

"Or do I have to go wake Mallory?"

"No!" Q shook his head. "Mallory doesn't know. And I need a meal if there is going to be alcohol. I will order some takeaway, but you are on your own for getting the alcohol."

He grabbed a menu out of the drawer and called the local Indian restaurant. He ordered enough food for more than two people. Maybe Bond would relent and eat, or maybe he would have leftovers. It avoided interaction with the rest of the world a little longer. He sat back next to Bond and dropped his glasses on the coffee table.

"I had a... a relationship," Q scrubbed at his eyes with his hands. "That's where I learned about computers. It didn't end well."

Bond sipped the tea and wrinkled his nose. Earl Grey... With milk. Eugh. It was marginally better than Lady Grey, but only just. If he had to drink tea, then it was English Breakfast, strong and black, with enough sugar in it to turn it to syrup. Give him a strong coffee any day.

He sipped at the liquid and glanced down at the stitches. They looked a lot better then his ever did - perhaps he should start breaking into Q's when he needed stitches.

"Okay..." He said coolly, trying to understand but clearly failing. "So why is your name on a hit list in Cuba?"

"I got away," Q sighed, resigned to laying his soul bare. "I have only told one other person. M, when she hired me. At first it was like any other relationship, I suppose. I was a loner as a teenage. I never had friends my age. So there he was... He was handsome, and showed me attention. It was flattering."

Q couldn't meet Bond’s' eyes.

"He treated me like I was special, said that no one would love me like he did. He was right. And I can't ever love someone like that again. It broke me. I got away with the clothes on my back, and my heart in pieces. And a criminal record."

Bond rubbed his eyes. “What has this got to do with anything? Who was he?”

"Raoul Silva."


	2. Chapter 2

Q hung his head and he could not look at Bond. The agent's hand had tightened on the gun to the point where his knuckles had gone white. 

"At first he was wonderful. He was good in bed, spent every minute with me. We did things I always wanted to try, things I had only read about."

“I won't shoot you... death is too easy for traitors,” Bond scoffed. He shoved the gun roughly, his lip curling into a snarl. Frustration roiled in him, frustration and anger because he couldn't just shoot the young man.

“Then..." Q’s eyes started to leak. "Then he changed. He got rough, and wouldn’t stop when I said no. He started bringing in other people and renting me out by the night. He has videos.”

"Does anyone else know?" he breathed as he forced himself to flick the safety on and put the gun away, sliding it into the shoulder rig. 

"M did... before," Q swallowed. "She... she said that she would be able to save me. But then they caught Z. Silva made me listen, while he tortured him. I offered to trade places, but he wouldn't. He made me listen to him die. And it’s all my fault, because I was stupid enough to think that someone found me attractive."

That got through to the agent. As angry as Bond was, as frustrated and as bone deep tired as he was... listening to someone you loved die... seeing that. 

Vesper.

Bond sat down beside him, dropping into the couch with a thud that sent sparks of pain through him. He shouldn't have done that, but the pain helped him to think clearly.

"I am not going to kill you," he said after a long moment of uncertainty where it seemed that he could turn. "However tomorrow, I am taking you in to have a chat with Mallory. Understand?" he asked, sounding exhausted. Mallory might order him killed but that was not for Bond to decide. Bond had never had an issue with killing people before, weather they were guilty or not.

"I will stay here tonight."

"Ok, you can have the bed," Q wiped his eyes. "I don't really sleep. Maybe if I don't close my eyes I will stop seeing. So tea and coffee it is. Do you want coffee? I have an espresso machine. Or you are probably ready for bed. There are pain killers in the bathroom if you need them. And then Mallory can throw me out of MI6 tomorrow, so Silva can find me and torture me again."

"I don't sleep either," replied Bond as he thought about everything that had happened, everything that Q had said. He rubbed his eyes. No, he did not want or need pain killers. Pain kept him focus, aware.

"Silva is dead, Q. I am hunting down his sources," he pushed his lips together thoughtfully. "You said he had videos?" he promoted. He believed that Q did not have any malicious intent... but he was still a traitor. Bond had trusted him.

"Yeah, he has a lot of videos," Q said softly. "Videos of me... having a lot of things done to me. At first he recorded it because he said it was sexy, and he wanted to show me off. Then, when the facade dropped... it was blackmail. How much could I take. Because whatever I couldn't take, happened to Z. And I didn't want him to know. Z was born Zahir, my sister."

Bond rubbed the spot between his eyebrows that was growing very quickly into a headache, and shot the younger man a withering glare. "Sex videos? You made sex videos?" He sounded like he wanted to laugh at that... Then his addled brain let another bit slide into place.  
Done to him? Bond swore, soft and under his breath. "You’re a submissive?" It was hardly a question.

"No!" Q shuddered. "No. Never again." He rolled up his sleeve and showed Bond the healed razor lines that were carved deep into his forearms. He pulled back down the long cardigan sleeves and shuddered. 

"I wanted to try it once, before I was the Dom, to know what it was like, and at first it was alright. Find my limits, find what I liked. Then he wouldn't stop. Said that he decided when we were done, not me. That no sub of his was going to decide a scene was over. I can't. I still have nightmares. I have tried, but then I always panic."

Bond felt his face wanting to twist into something disgusted but he didn't let it. Silva had been a sick, twisted creature and this man in front of him... Had been his. Silva had destroyed another life... And he hadn't had the decency to kill Q when he was done.

"Silva is dead," he repeated, although it would not help. Le Chiffre was dead but he still played a part in his less blood soaked nightmares.

"Do you know where the videos are?" He asked quietly, trying to keep him calm, keep him talking.

"Silva had them, on his island," Q couldn't meet James' eyes. He rubbed his arms and shivered. "I don't know where they are now. I know he gave copies to people in case something happened to them. He used to have parties, and play them, so his guests 'could get a taste of the merchandise'." He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to pop his tense neck. "I always Dom now, and even that power is such a huge responsibility. I remember what it was like to be new, and think that I had to do anything to make them like me. It’s easier to just have vanilla sex. Or not have sex at all."

Bond rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like he had stepped into another world. This conversation was spiralling into something that he had no experience in, and didn't quite know how to process.

There was a knock at the door and he jumped. The gun was in his hand before he even realised that he had drawn it, pointing and ready to fire on an enemy. Paranoid? Bond made it an art form.  
It was only then that he remembered the take away. 

"Bond, maybe you shouldn't shoot the delivery man?" Q suggested, shooing him into the kitchen as he went to answer the door. He thanked the man and gave him a large tip, since it was almost closing time for the restaurant. He brought the food into the kitchen and reached into the cupboard for clean mugs and plates. He turned on the espresso machine and let it heat up as he ground fresh beans. 

"You look a little uncomfortable, 007. I'm sorry, I didn't want to get into that much detail with you. I just needed you to know why. To know that I'm not the traitor you think I am. If there was any other way, other than him hurting Z, I would have. But he didn't want me in the end. He wanted to destroy everything that made my life worth living."

Bond’s gaze solidified into something hard, cold as ice and strictly professional. Sex... He was good at sex, it worked better for relaxation then alcohol ever seemed too these days. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Terrorists are good at that," he replied, and nodded to the food. "Eat your dinner and then go to bed, Q. You can't do anything else tonight." He turned and stalked back to the living room, sliding off his jacket as he went.

Q ate without tasting the food. He felt like Bond thought he was lying as a way out. He probably wouldn't be the only one either. He wasn't expecting a good reception when he told his story to Tanner and Mallory. The old M had his information on paper, away from where Silva could find it. And Silva still found him. 

He put his plate in the dishwasher, and went to see what he could find on the telly. Ah, perfect. One of those detective stories where everything wrapped up neatly in 60 minutes and had a happy ending.

Bond was a silent brooding presence in the room, the proverbial elephant that no one wanted to discuss. He didn't move or speak, his breaths hardly altered as he sat and watched the television, barely taking the story in as he gazed at it. When it finished, he scoffed. Predictable happy ending. Did writers really think the world was like that?

"Go to bed, Q," ordered Bond quietly, shifting to get more comfortable. His side stung and his shirt stuck to it, aggravating him.

"You should clean off those stitches, Bond," Q suggested. "They should heal a lot faster this time. There's coffee if you want, and I will see you in the morning."

Q kicked off his shoes and changed into pajamas. He put out his clothes for work in the morning mechanically. What would be his last day at MI6. He had no illusions that this would end well. Tomorrow he would be in one of those glass cells. He picked up his book off the nightstand, suddenly filled with terror that everything he had done today was for the last time. Why bother reading? He wouldn't be free long enough to finish the book.

He turned out the light and stared at the ceiling for awhile. He didn't fight his eyes growing heavy, like he usually did. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept more than 45 minutes at a time. Just long enough to hit REM sleep, and dream. 

He came awake suddenly, his throat hoarse from screaming.

Bond was in the room, bashing the light switch to turn it on. The gun was drawn, aimed and ready to fire at whatever enemy assaulted them first... No one was there. It took a moment to click and then he was moving to the bedside to sit beside Q. 

"Bad dream?" He asked, his voice rough. He knew what those were like, probably better then the man before him.

Bond looked terrible. His eyes were heavy, exhausted and dull but alert. His slumped shoulders told of the exhaustion and the strain he felt, even the guilt. It was all there, plain to read.

"Yeah, I have a lot of those," Q looked out the window where the first light of dawn was touching the sky before the sun came over the horizon. "I'm going to make coffee, if you want some." He stretched, his back popping. His shirt slid up and Bond could see scars over the thin ribs.Q grabbed his glasses and gave Bond a sad smile. Nothing worse than the pity. It was why he never told anyone. They all looked at him like he was going to break. Where was everyone to worry when Silva had been taking him apart?

Bond trailed after him, watching him with a hard gaze. The apartment was immaculate, and nothing was out of place to suggest that Bond had taken the place apart to look for evidence to incriminate the man.. He had found nothing. It was infuriating really, because it meant putting Q in the right category was hard. Why could he not be solely in the good or bad guys category? Why the horrible grey space between?

"I was expecting you to have a cat," the agent said as he shooed Q from the coffee machine so he could make it.

"I wanted one," Q admitted. "I just didn't want one more thing for Silva to hurt. Oh, and by the way Bond, the sex toys are in the closet. I could hear you moving things."

Bond paused in his coffee making and then let out a small bark of laughter. He turned back to Q and brought over the coffee - just the way that he drank it. 007 was an observant man, and he had kept an eye on his Quartermaster after the Silva fiasco.

"I did wonder what all that was - it took me a moment to work it out," he confessed as he added an obscene amount of sugar to the liquid and took a large, scalding gulp.

"Yes, well, probably not your cup of tea, 007," Q said. "I can't imagine that you like being bound in your spare time. You must get enough of that at work. Although, it might do wonders for how tense you are. Submitting can be a wonderful thing, when you can trust the person holding the keys. I'm going to shower, do put the ropes back where you found them. And the leather. Those cuffs and whips are custom made."

Bond snorted under his breath and rolled his eyes. 

"I've never submitted in my life," replied Bond, his tongue sharp as a whip crack. Defensive. Curious and cross at himself for it. "And besides, I wouldn't let you catch me," he replied cheerfully, face bright. The switch from defensive and annoyed to bright was instantaneous. "Go and shower."

Q would bet his life on it that submitting was all that Bond would think about from now on.

"Oh I won't chase you, 007," he assured. "If you want to submit, you will have to ask for it. That's not something I would ever force someone into. Its about trust. The sub is the one that calls the shots. The Dom is only there to make them feel safe so they can let go."

Bond's smile was a wintery thing, cold as his ice blue eyes.

"I do not submit," he said very slowly, very clearly. It was flat, emotionless... Deadly. "As for trust?" His smile turned from cold to dark. "You lost that when you didn't tell me the truth, when I took M to Skyfall," he strode past Q, pausing to speak softly. "Her blood is as much on your hands as mine. Go and shower." Bond wasn't a nice man, but twisting that kind of knife? It was low, even for him.

"Submitting isn't for the faint of heart," Q stripped off his shirt, exposing a back full of scars.


	3. Chapter 3

Bond sucked in a breath… a deep one. Christ, he knew what those scars were. He had seen them on the back of 004 after his mission to North Korea. They were the bite marks of a whip.

"And as for trust, there is more blood than M's on my hands. I listened to Z be tortured as incentive when I was letting down the MI6 firewalls. But I suppose you would have to let someone close before they can be used as a weapon. Don't underestimate what I'm made of 007. I could have stood it, if they weren't doing it to him." With those words, Q staggered off to the shower.

_Vesper_

Bond did not respond, save making a flicking gesture with his fingers. His face was expressionless, almost bored. Having just got back from a mission, it meant that agents were entitled to up to five days of leave to catch up on sleep, and aspects of their lives that they had between missions. All he wanted to do was stagger back to his apartment, find the bottle of scotch on the top shelf and pass out.

He had listened to Vesper be hurt whilst mouthing off to Le Chiffre... so he knew the guilt that Q was feeling.

_But then again, the bitch betrayed you. She probably deserved it._

He forced those thoughts out of his head and crossed his arms, waiting.

...

Q was silent, too silent. His body was shaking under the water, but he was biting his lip so hard there was blood.

_I know you know how this feels, Quartermaster. Do you remember what it feels like to have hot knives slid under your skin, while someone chokes you until it all goes black? I bet no one makes you feel like this anymore._

Q fell to his knees, retching. He had to stay calm, today of all days.

Bond listened to the sounds without a flicker of emotion as he waited. Then there was that thump of someone falling, a sound he knew as well as his own breath. He turned and stalked to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"Q? You alright?"

Q couldn't talk. He was too far inside his own head. He could feel his teeth rattling and body shaking. He could hear Bond talking, but he couldn't distinguish the words above the roar in his ears.

_Can't even submit... what a failure. Who would pay for you? They would have to be paid to fuck you._

His head thrashed back and forth as he could feel the fists hitting his face all over again. He couldn't breath through the sobs choking him, and the panic closed over his head like a cold ocean.

Bond put his elbow against the door, against the lock, paused and then slammed it into the wood. The lock broke under the force, and then he was sweeping inside. He took in the panic, the form in the shower and snatched the largest, fluffiest towel that hung over the rack. Stepping into the shower cubicle, he turned the water off, and wrapped the towel around Q's shoulders.

Bond sat in the shower cubicle and pulled the small form into his arms, resting against his chest. "Its all right..." he murmured. "You’re safe now..." he muttered, rubbing his back.

"No... no... please," Q was sobbing. "Please stop hurting him. I will do anything you want. Please." He clutched at Bond's arm, trying to reach out to someone only he could see. "I won't make any noise. I will be quiet. I promise. No one will ever know. Just let him go. Let him go and I will let as many of you have me as you want. I will hack into MI6. Just please... don't." All he could hear in his head was Silva's laugh.

_Stupid slut. I already have you both._

"Shhh..." Bond breathed, holding him tightly as he rocked Q back and forth. Was this the right thing to do? He had no idea is trying to comfort him was what he needed. Shoving a hand under his knees, he scooped Q into his arms.

Grunting as his side stung, he carried him through to the bedroom and sat down, pulling Q onto his knees. He rocked him, an instinct more than anything else.

Q beat his fists against James' chest, and then shook himself with a start. He realized in that horrible, embarrassing moment that he was naked… wet… on James Bond’s lap, sobbing against the suit that probably cost more then he earned in a month.

"Oh my god..." he scrambled off James' lap. "I'm so sorry. Usually there isn't anyone here when that happens. Would you give me a minute to get dressed? Um, have you seen my glasses?"

"It's fine," Bond was rather damp, and the thighs of his trousers cling to him, soaked. He left the boy for a moment, returning with the glasses and extended his hand, the glasses in his palm. "You alright now?"

"I haven't been alright in a very long time, Bond," Q blinked at him through the thick glasses. "I may never be again. Some days it’s one minute at a time, others its one breath at a time. It depends on how bad it is. But I'm still breathing, so that's something. That's more than I can say for Z. He wouldn't have wanted me to give up."

Bond offered him a weak smile, tired and heart aching for the young man. "No, he would not... and you owe it to him to not give up..." he had not spoken to Q about it, but he would vouch for Q. Vouch that he acted under duress. "Get dressed."

Q wrapped himself in as many layers as he could. Undershirt, button down, cardigan. Then he put on a jacket over it. He remembered how cold the cell where they kept Silva was. Might as well be warm while he watched the rest of his life end. "Alright Bond, let's get this over with," Q put his laptop in his messenger bag.

"Firing squad at dawn, quite fitting."

"They are not going to shoot you, Q," he said as he turned away, going to the door. "You have proved that you are worth something... I will vouch for you," he said and with a hand at the small of his back, lead them out to the car.

"Vouch for me?" Q turned and stared. "Why would you vouch for a traitor, 007? I will tell Mallory it was me. It was, regardless of why I did it. There is no one else for him to hurt. Maybe that will finally give me some peace. Are we taking the tube?" He took his house key off of the key ring and handed it to Bond. "They will want this to search the apartment."

"Because you were under extreme duress," he gave him a flat look, as if daring him to say any more about it. He lead him across to the car that he had been in last night, plucking the key as he went. "Because I turned your whole place upside down last night and if I can't find any evidence that your selling secrets or anything else... then it doesn't exist."

"Selling secrets?" Q was incredulous. "I didn't do what I did for money, 007. I am one of the best in the world in my field. I don't need to sell secrets. I didn't even do it to avoid pain for myself. Leave me on the hit list, it’s better that way. I've had enough of the fear, and the nightmares, and the regrets."

"Q... do us both a favour? Shut up," Bond growled softly as they drove. He moved through the traffic like the car was an extension of himself, smooth and easy driving. His lip curled a little as he concentrated, and after a too short space of time - after breaking half a dozen traffic laws - they took the ramp into the car park.

"Yes, 007," Q leaned back into the leather seats. It was a big difference from the tube during rush hour, but he couldn't remember the last time he had been in a car in London. He remembered driving in the countryside with Z, when they had gone on a trip to Cardiff. He loved Doctor Who, and he had gotten them passes to go see it filmed for his birthday. That last birthday, before everything went wrong.

Bond stopped in the car park and closed his eyes. He waited until Q was out of the car, and signed. In silence, he lead him up to Mallory's office. Throwing a wink at Eve, she buzzed Q in.

"Its okay, Q... Just be honest..." This would go one of two ways. M would have him killed... or decide that Q was valuable enough to put under protection and probation.

Which would mean that someone would have to follow Q around... and seeing as he was in the country, which means that Psych would be pulling him in soon... when they realised that he was hardly eating and not sleeping. He would be signed off.

"Hello 007, Q," Mallory looked up. "Do you want to tell me what's so urgent that you are here before the sun?"

"It was me, Sir," Q said. "I was the inside man. I was Silva's mole. He held me and tortured me, before I got the job here. M offered me protection. But then he kidnapped Z, my sister. And he made me listen. No one knew Z was a girl, until Silva sold her to the highest bidder, except me."

Q stripped off his shirt and Mallory dropped his pen. Q had more scars than most of the Double 0 agents combined.

Bond rolled his eyes and sat down. Shorn with teenage dramatics, Q had his shirt off and was showing the scars. They all had scars, physical and mental. You did not have to be crazy to work for MI6, but it sure helped.

In quiet words, leaning to rub his temples, he began to explain what he found in Cuba, talking in a quiet, haunting voice. He explained what happened, and how he had broken into Q's house and stayed there all night.

"I want to vouch for Q," he said to Mallory, ignoring the look from Q. "I think he was under duress, and has not committed treason."

"What both of you don't know, is that M left your file with me, Q," Mallory held up a paper folder. "I already knew this, 007. M briefed me before she went to Skyfall. When Z went off the grid, M suspected that this was what had happened."

"She knew?" Q couldn't believe his ears.

"Orphans make the best double 0 agents, and M's, Q," Mallory said. "You are far from the first agent to join MI6 this way."

That made Bond scowl darkly and rubbed his temples.

"So now what happens to Q?" he drawled, feeling his body begin to tense already with anger that seemed to grow from nowhere. M knew... M knew and had not told him. His hand slammed down on the table, hard. "Why wasn't I told during the whole fucking Silva mess?" he snapped. "I could have stopped him if I knew!"

"Now you take Q to a safe house, and make sure he is safe," Mallory shook his head. "I want you guarding him from the beginning. No mistakes. We can't afford to lose our Quartermaster. Here are your orders 007." He handed over a sheet of paper. "Take your car and leave now," he instructed. "And don't tell anyone that you are leaving. According to official records, you are recuperating at home."

Bond took the envelope and rose. He stood up and strode out, ripping the envelope open to look at the instructions inside, taking in the address with a glance. He didn't look as Moneypenny plucked it from his hands to shred it.

"Get a bloody move on, Q!" He demanded over his shoulder. 


	4. Chapter 4

They both needed to pack - he always kept an overnight bag in the boot of his car... This would be more then one night. Then they had to drive north towards the lakes to a little cottage in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Because London was dangerous now and in the middle of the Lake District in October was safe, apparently.

"What do I need to bring?" Q asked him. He made a mental list of things: his razor, pajamas... maybe the rope and cuffs. Sometimes it gave him some peace to wear them while he slept. And maybe he could finish the book of poetry he was working on, Michelangelo's works in original Italian, and translated. A toothbrush, his laptop, some clothes that worked in layers, because he didn't know where they were going.

Bond eventually slowed his stride so that Q could catch up with him. He practically radiated tension, most of that which came from no sleep for what... Three days? Four? Even so, It wasn’t fair to take it out on Q… but it sure made him feel better.

It was the same issue with food. Deep down, he knew he was hungry. Deeply deeply hungry... But nothing filled that gap and it grew wider.

"Clothes, laptop, books... Anything to keep you entertained..."

Q nodded, lost in thought. When they got to his apartment, he packed a bag quickly. He wasn't sure if James heard him opening the closet or not, but he was beyond caring. There was only so long until the numbness wore off, and the stress hit him. He just hoped they would arrive before that. It wasn't going to be pretty.

Bond's apartment was like a show home, and looked barely lived in... It wasn't, not really. The man slept in the bed... Once, twice a month? If that? The cleaner that MI6 paid to keep the place habitable spent more time in this place than he ever did. He had wanted to give it up… they said no. He had a bag ready in minutes and were soon driving north. "We are heading to the lake district," he announced eventually, his voice quivering with exhaustion as they came off the M25 and joined the flow of cars headed north.

"Do you want me to drive?" Q asked. Maybe it would distract him. He put down his book and sighed. The book had been a gift from Z when he came out, the poems written to the sculptor's male lover. It was when he had started to learn Italian, to read them to someone if he ever had a lover of his own. That hadn't happened with Silva. But Silva had hardly been a lover.

"Not particularly," Bond replied. They were going to be living together for a time, trying to stay alive... Stay sane... Which means that conversation would be required. He side glanced the book.

"What are you reading? Let me know if you want to pull over for anything."

"Poetry," Q flipped through the worn pages. "This book was why I learned Italian. Z bought it when I came out, said this way I would have poetry to read to my boyfriend. I used to dream about dating a boy that would lay on my lap and listen to me read to him. We can go as fast as you want, I don't need to stop. You don't need to entertain me, Bond. I know I'm not on your favorites list."

"Not many are," Bond retorted and it was a valid point. They drove for hours, stopping once so that Bond could get coffee. He made Q eat - the boy was far too skinny - but he failed practicing what he preached.

It was late afternoon when they drove up the winding country path that was quite literally going up a mountain. There was a heavy cloud cover - it was cold and damp. Before them, stood a pretty little slate cottage that had obviously withstood the test of time. Grey with dark windows, and stone roof. This was the safe house? Bond pulled up in front of it and he glared.

"I really don't think you will find anyone out here to play sex games with," Bond muttered as he got out the car, more to himself than anyone else but he was in a miserable mood. The heavens opened and the rain began to poor steadily.

Great. They would be stuck inside.

"I didn't come here to play sex games," Q stumbled out of the car, his legs gone numb. He waited for James at the door. The sky looked as tumultuous as he felt. A crack of thunder had him jumping in surprise. He sighed. Just what he needed, a storm to rattle his nerves further. He followed Bond in and watched as he started a fire.

"Is there anything you need me to do?" he asked wearily. He went to investigate if the kitchen had a kettle.

"Go explore, choose a bedroom... Get comfortable..." Bond shook his head. He went out to the car and carried the bags in. The fridge was thankfully full. "You could cook? I'm not hungry and I want to check the perimeter... Make sure its not bugged..."

"You need to eat too, Bond. I haven't seen you eat yet. I will make something plain." He looked in the fridge. Shepherd's pie was easy enough, they had the ingredients, and there would leftovers. He boiled water in a pan for tea, more for comfort than caffeine. The cold had settled in, making his wrists ache.

Bond did not want to eat... everything he ate tasted like ash, so what was the point?

Because he knew that if he did not find some outlet soon, he was going to end up as another MI6 statistic. Ex agents usually took their own lives, unable to bare with the horrors that they had dealt with, in the name of queen and country. Once in a while, they did it spectacularly, with an explosion in a public place and taking as many as they could with them. Silva had been one in a long list, although cleverer and more driven than most of them. No, he needed to get back into the field as soon as possible.  
"I'm not really hungry," he replied as he set about making tea. The place had electricity - just - and in indoor toilet. Hot running water, however, it did not have. He spotted the large pan that had been heated to fill the tub with hot water and cursed under his breath. Of course MI6 would not think that people needed running water when they were in hiding/

"Would you like a bath?" Q asked tentatively, watching the agent from the corner of his eye. "Maybe it will help you relax. You don't look like you have slept much more than me recently. And you have to eat sometime. You can't be guarding the place running on no sleep, no food, and caffeine. I've tried, it only works for so long. I already put one pot in the tub, and there's a mug of tea. I will bring this one in."

Q rolled up his sleeves. He carried the heavy pot to the bathroom and dumped it into the tub. Then he went back and brought a plate of food, and tea into the bathroom.

"There Bond, go relax for awhile. And-thank you, for today. You didn't have to save me. But thanks."

It was a strange state of affairs when you were running on no sleep, no food and caffeine. The world seemed to take on a whole palette of new colours and dulled sensations. Bond felt like he was drunk and knew crashing was close. He watched Q heat the water and narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"You don't have to try and look after me, Q. I've been doing this since you were in nappies," but he stalked to the bathroom anyway, slamming the door after him. Just to make a point. A bath would be very welcome at this point in time.

"Do try to take care of yourself enough to at least keep me alive, 007," Q resorted to his stern Quartermaster's voice. "Not all of us specialize in resurrection." Bond ignored him and stripped to slide in. That felt good on aching muscles and he groaned. That was when it hit the stitches and he cursed repeatedly until the sting faded into the same ache as the rest of him.

Q could hear the splashing of water, and Bond’s groan. He ate standing at the counter, close to the warmth of the stove. It was a slow process, warming up in this chill that soaked into your bones. He refilled his tea, and filled another mug for Bond. He added a shot of brandy that he found in the cupboard, and then added a shot to his own. Much longer without sleep and he wouldn't be able to see, glasses or not.

"Bond, I made you more tea," Q walked into the bathroom. "I thought a shot of brandy might help us both sleep."

Many people might have been upset or offended by someone walking into the bathroom as if they owned the place. Especially when they someone was their boss... And younger than them.  
Not Bond. He had no shame left. The agent simply arched an eyebrow at the younger man, hair wet and full of shampoo. His expression was a picture.

"Set it down somewhere," barked the agent and then there was the splash as he sunk back in the water to wash shampoo from his hair. He sat up again while he rinsed and wiped water from his face and eyes.

"Here," Q handed him a towel that he had warmed by the stove. "Was the food ok? I was wondering, is it ok if I use internet here? I was going to see if I can play some music."

He disappeared, and returned with another pot of warm water. He poured it into the water at Bond’s feet, and handed him the shaving cream.

Bond groaned as the water poured into the tub, and his toes curled in pleasure. He sank back into the water with a sigh. "It was fine," he replied. He had tackled the food and worked through some of it, but the rest sat uneaten. "Go for it," he replied, a sleepy warmth in his tone, took the shaving foam and began to apply it, using memory to shave. Years and years of habit.

Q swallowed, Bond’s throat looked delicious. It made him remember just how long it had been that he had been sleeping alone.

"I'll-I will just go see what I can find," he left in a hurry before Bond caught him staring. All those months in MI6, and the good looking agents hadn't gotten to him. Put him in a bathroom with one, and his libido surged with a vengeance. He thought of the tan jute rope in his bag, how it would look against Bond’s skin.

"Do you want a hand, Bond?" He summoned up his courage and asked.


	5. Chapter 5

Bond blinked with surprise at the question, and his face settled into something unreadable. He went silent and it seemed as if if he would say no… but then...

"Why not?" He sighed after a moment and handed over the razor and tilted his jaw up. 

Q steadied his hands, trying to remind himself it was no different than fashioning weapons. He carefully ran the razor down Bond’s cheeks, and up his neck. He wiped away the excess shaving cream with a wet towel, and rubbed his hands across Bond’s shoulders. They were so tense, and the bruising from the stitches had gone an ugly shade of yellow. He kneaded away some of the knots, and smoothed his fingers across Bond’s forehead, trying to soothe away the frown lines.

"You should get some sleep," he murmured.

Q was trying to mother him, it instantly had Bond on edge and looking annoyed... Although he suspected that the glare that he was trying to throw was subdued by the expression of bliss as knots started to slowly ease under long fingers. Some of those had been there for years… years and years.

A long exhale, and another order. Bond wasn't listening.

"Probably should..." the agent muttered, turning his face into the touch so they moved over the bridge of his nose and around his eyes where the headache was a permanent feature.

Q reached for the bottle of bath oil, and poured some onto his hands. He rubbed his knuckles into the knots, and down to James' shoulder blades, below the water. His fingers found the pressure points where the knots were, and teased them away. He could feel James relax back against his hands.Q let out the tense breath he was holding, and tilted his head, cracking his neck. He hadn't touched someone in so long. 

He didn’t realise that the agent was thinking the same thing.

It had been a long time since Bond had let someone touch him so intimately. Sex was a regular part of his job and unlike what most people thought, it got old. Fast. Just letting someone touch him, someone who knew what they were doing with his hands... he shivered in visceral delight. This was too good. People didn't do things like this unless they wanted something in return. 

He didn't care.

After a time, the water cooled and he stirred. "Should probably get out of this..." He mumbled.

"Oh, yes, it is getting cool," Q reached for the towel and held it out, wrapping it around his shoulders as he stood. He took another and gently rubbed the drops from his hair, and face. "If you want to lay on the bed, I can finish rubbing your back. And we can put some bandages on those stitches.”

He had forgotten about the cuffs that lay on the bed spread.

Bond let him. His mind was far too fuzzy to protest and he shuffled to the bedroom obediently, drying himself as he went. Batting Q's hand away, he scrubbed his own hair as he went, giving Q a very nice look at everything that had been below the water line.

James Bond had a glorious ass. Q licked his lips, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine it… pink and hot, the muscles quivering with tension as the cane landed again. He stopped and draw a breath, dragging his mind out the gutter. 

Bond froze in the doorway as he saw Q's... Equipment. He pivoted slowly, arching an eyebrow. "Something you want to explain?" He jerked his head at the rope and cuffs. He could feel the tension clawing his way into his shoulders one more and his expression said that he would do murder if Q did not have a very good explanation.

"No!" Q blushed furiously and looked down. "I use them to help me sleep sometimes. It makes me feel safe. I'm sorry. I haven't slept in days, and it's going to turn into migraines if I don't sleep soon. I-why don't you get some sleep, 007? There's some things I need to do on my computer."

Bond's eyes brightened slightly in amusement and he resisted the urge to roll them. He chuckled wickedly and smiled, tired. "Its fine... And no, you don't. You have the lumber region of my spine to do something with." He flopped forward onto the bed.

"Are you sure?" Q shed his cardigan. He went into the bathroom and came back with the bath oil. "Lay down then…” he kneeled on the bed, his legs on either side of Bond. He leaned into the massage, letting his body put the pressure, rather than his sore wrists. He stopped several times to crack his knuckles. 

He massaged the tense muscles of Bond’s neck, the soft blond hair glistening from the oil. He had a sudden urge to run his tongue down the delicate shell of James' ear. And then he realized that he was hard.

Bond closed his eyes and let his body relax, letting go. He felt the hands working, and although his body was unwinding, Bond's mind was as active as ever. His eyes opened and the cuffs and rope were in his vision.

He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath as Q pressed. The visual stimulation and the massage and suddenly Bond was hard, and felt like he had been since the last ice age.

Q didn't know what to do. No way to move without Bond figuring it out. But the warm skin under his hands and the firm thighs between his legs were a distraction.

"Bond, would you like to roll over?" Bond was getting restless and fidgeting.

Shit. Shit shit shit. 

He really shouldn't roll over, because it would be obvious and he had no intention of submitting it any rubbish like that. He huffed. Who cared if he had an erection? Modesty be damned, he rolled into his back. One arm got thrown over his eyes with a drawn out groan.

"Oh! So its not just me," Q breathed in surprise. He looked down shyly at Bond. Certainly one of the 00 agents wouldn't be attracted to him, after the amount of beautiful people they seduced on a regular basis. Ahhh... involuntary reaction to the massage, no doubt.

Another handful of warm oil, and he slid his hands down Bond's chest. Although it had been months ago, the scar where the agent dug out the bullet remnants was still an angry red.  
Q took a deep breath and tried to focus on the massage. Until his fingers found Bond's nipple.

Bond had barely registered that he was not the only one who was extremely turned on. He was naked, Q wasn't and right now, his mind was following his hands in a blissed out state.  
He was barely aware that he was having a massage from an MI6 executive. This would ruin them both-His thoughts were cut off and a hiss came from him as a finger brushed over his nipple. It hardened under the touch and Bond writhed.

"I-" Q froze. No hope for Bond not noticing how hard he was now. A ragged moan tore past his lips. "Fuck it," he leaned down and captured Bond’s lips in a brutal kiss.

Bond groaned and his lips parted for the rough kiss. His hands rose and tangled into Q's hair, pushing up to meet the kiss. Q relaxed against Bond’s hands, let himself feel safe for a moment. All the stress of the past few days seeped out of him and he laid down besides Bond, letting his muscles relax for the first time.  
He could feel the kiss making his blood sing, and he pressed his body against Bond. It was so good to touch someone again.

Bond's hands slid out of the boy’s hair. It moved down the back of his neck across shoulders which held a surprising amount of muscle. Down, they moved, with confidence to rest in the young man's hips as he slowly pushed, taking control of the kiss. One leg pushed between Q’s, a firm presence, a demand.

"Bond, I-" Q pulled his face back so he could focus on Bond’s eyes. "I don't want you to be upset, but sometime I panic. If I do, just let me be for a minute." He hated having to tell someone that, hated how weak it made him feel. "I Dom now, because I want the other person to know they are safe, that what I was looking for is out there. And they can let go. Can you let me do that for you?"

Bond pulled away and sat up, cock heavy between his legs, swollen and hard. But he didn't run... He could have gone. Swallowed his pride and fled from the emotions that threatened to floor him. Bond shivered and raked a hand through his still damp hair.

"No. I... Do you have any idea what you’re asking?" The words were like ice, hard as nails.

"You don't have any reason to trust me, I know," Q's voice was soft. "This though, this I can give you." He stood and unbuttoned the shirt slowly, keeping eye contact the whole time. He toed off his shoes, and unzipped his trousers. He stepped out of them, and then his pants. He sat down and peeled off the socks, making sure James could see his face the whole time. Maybe he could make him see, how vulnerable this made him as well.

Bond shook his head a little. No, that wasn't the point... They wasn't what he meant. Breathing out slowly, Bond looked away as a faint flush ended up on his cheeks. He hated talking about this, refused to... "Last time I ended up naked and tied up, I ended up infertile," he said quietly. "Years before you joined MI6."

"I know, I saw your file," Q nodded. "None of us at MI6 are healthy, and completely sane, Bond. I dare say you've probably had worse things done to you than I have. I am clean, by the way. I got tested after my last partner.” There was no need to ask if Bond was clean, he got tested before every mission. He sat on the bed, and picked up the cuffs in his hands.

"Did you ever want children, with Vesper?"

"No..." The words were there without hesitation, without time to really think. No... Maybe once upon a time, back then. "But the chance opportunity would have been nice, y'know?" He radiated tension and frustration, his face dark. "I don't think I can let you bind me... At least... Not yet..."

"How about if I put on the cuffs, and don't link them together?" Q held out the soft leather and rubbed it against Bond’s' nipple. He ran his fingers through Bond’s hair as he arched into his touch. "Children, I don't think I have ever even thought that far. It was always one day at a time as a kid, trying to protect Z. And after I joined MI6, well, we don't live that long."

He shivered as the leather touched his already sensitive nipple. Every instinct was telling him no, don't be stupid... He could kill you. He could try and he would die trying. It felt like an age of his mind churning it over. His tongue darted out over soft lips, wetting them although his mouth was dry.

Bond nodded.

Q buckled the soft leather around Bond’s wrists. They were lined in fleece, and fit like they were made with him in mind. He bent and captured his mouth, pinning Bond’s hands over his head. He hoped that the pounding of his heart wasn't audible. He tried to keep his hands steady and confident. But every ounce of him was trembling, his darkest fantasy trapped beneath him.

Bond let Q pin him with his arms above his head, although there was resistance. Naturally so, and even when the backs of his hands touched the pillows, he found himself pushing back. 

It wouldn't be that hard to push back, to get him off and his gun was hanging in the holster on the bedside. So with that comfort in mind, he made himself relax into the kiss.

Q moaned against his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. He was gentle, focused completely on James' responses. The man beneath his got his full attention, his own pleasure coming from the reactions.

"Tell me if you are uncomfortable," he mouthed at Bond’s ear, biting at the lobe. The spark of pleasure in his belly had everything to do with Bond’s comfort with him.

The agent was highly uncomfortable with the situation. With his exhaustion and his frustration and the fact that M was dead... And Q was straddling him. He grunted a response but that was stolen, and turned into a breathy cry as that tiny shard of pain traced through his body and straight to his groin.  
"Look at me, Bond," Q commanded. "I need you to tell me what's going on in your head." He sat back and ran his hand over Bond’s stomach. It reminded him of soothing a scared animal."Shall I stop?"

His fingers clawed at the sheets, trying to keep grounded, trying to resist the urge to touch or to strangle Q. His eyes opened, and when he looked up at Q, they seemed to burn.

"Q I swear I will kill you if you stop," Bond snarled.


	6. Chapter 6

The agent threw back his head, an animal sound on his lips and he rolled his hips harshly, seeking that friction. That sweet touch.

"It's ok, I've got you," Q bit his way down Bond’s stomach, leaving purple marks on the skin. He lathed his tongue against the sharp hip bones, and nipped at his thighs. He tried to take his time, and get James to relax. He was so tense, this wasn't going to last very long. He took him in his mouth, sucking gently at the tip first. Then he took a deep breath and swallowed.

Bond swore loudly, curling into that sensation. Getting closer or escaping, It wasn't clear although his hands fisted into the young man’s hair, tugging sharply. His hips rose with a mind of their own, mindless with the need for touch, for connection. For anything.

Q hummed around him, a soft growl. He took Bond’s arse in his hands and lifted him, kneading the muscles with his fingers. He was trying to ignore how turned on he was, but the hands tugging at his hair, the taste, he was too close. He ground his hips against the soft duvet, and moaned around Bond as he came.

It was a flutter of his tongue combined with the moan that sent Bond crashing over the edge into what was a hard orgasm, the sort that sweeps the rug out from under your feet. He cried out with a ragged sound, his body stiffening as he rode through the waves of pleasure until he sagged. Q swallowed as fast as he could, then lapped at Bond until he got too sensitive.

"Roll over," his voice was raspy, guttural. He kneaded at Bond’s' thighs and stretched, his thighs sticky with cum.

Bond did so, Slowly rolling onto his front. His eyes had become cautious. Guarded even, and he looked back over his shoulder at Q, waiting for the next instructions. His cuffed hands were at his sides, moving restlessly. He swallowed, nervous. 

Q leaned down and licked a line down his spine. He could feel the tension in James' muscles, and tried to smooth it away. He kissed his tailbone, and laved his tongue down the crack, tasting sweat, and the remains of Bond’s orgasm. He spread his cheeks and licked, teasing. He tried to keep Bond calm, relaxed, for the next part.

He hissed softly, and clawed at the sheets in an almost animal need. He tried to relax, tried to let it go and let Q do... what he did. It was that tongue however, fluttering towards parts of his body that he had never considered... that made Bond move.

He twisted - the movement was fast and used one hand to shove Q sideways onto the bed. Using the momentum, he pulled himself up. One cuffed wrist pressed down onto Q's chest, hard and his eyes narrowed. A cornered predator, terrified and wild... and angry. 

"What are you doing?" Bond snarled.

Too far, Q. Too much, too fast.

Q couldn't talk. His mouth was moving, but no words were coming out. He knew in his head that it was Bond, and that Bond was scared. But all he could see was Silva, coming for him. Waking up with no breath, being choked. Listening as Silva did the same things to Z.

He just curled into a ball and let the tears fall.

Bond narrowed his eyes as he tugged the leather cuffs off, ignoring the way the large D rings felt cool against his fever pitch skin. He was tense again, all Q's hard work ruined in a few moments of panic... but Q wasn't even present in the room, he was... elsewhere. A flash back? Bond knew that face well. He went quiet, and very still, his whole manner changing.

A hand came to rest on Q's shoulder, stroking gently and he talked under his breath, telling old mission stories... funny ones, ones where all hell had come loose and they tore free, laughing. Just, a familiar ground, a familiar voice to pull the naked Q back.

They needed to sleep, they both did... and Bond would be damned if he was letting Q go to the other bedroom tonight. No, Bond wanted Q where he could keep an eye on him.

It took an age to gently manoeuvre Q up and under the covers... and then he had to find some pants to go and lock up the rest of the house. Downstairs was cold and Bond came back up, shivering before sliding into bed beside the boy, who curled up at his command.

Q drifted off to sleep without saying another word. He dreamed of drowning, falling, and choking. Z, covered in blood. He hadn't seen him dead, but his mind had been more than helpful in creating lurid scenes of Z crying out for him.

"Easy... You’re safe..." Bond crooned in a sleep slurred voice, his eye heavy and threatening to close again. He was behind Q, not quite spooning but enough to be close enough to shake him awake. 

Q's thrashing had smacked Bond out of his own nightmare. Literally.

Q came awake with a start, sobbing. He couldn't find his glasses, so all he saw was a blur. He could feel a warm body behind him, but all he could remember were Z's screams, and feel the blood on his face.

He wiped his face, only to find that it was tears.

Bond's head was heavy in the pillow and he had trouble lifting it so that he could see the young man. He curled up behind Q and pressed into him.

"Roll over," Bond instructed as he stroked his hair, his neck, his arm gently.

"I'm sorry," Q snuffled. He looked like a lost child, hair sticking every which way. "I haven't had a meltdown like that in awhile. I'm really sorry Bond, I wanted you to enjoy yourself." He leaned back against him, enjoying the warm touch, and rolled onto his stomach. It had been a long time since he felt safe like this, particularly after a bad episode. But his head was throbbing, a migraine threatening.

"Don't apologize..." He pressed closer, running his hand lightly up and down his scarred back in a gentle sweep. Up and down, nice and slow. A soothing motion.

"Could you hand me my glasses?" Q asked. "I need to find my migraine medicine, see if I can head this off. Or I will be worthless later.”

They needed to talk. Bond could sense that between them but he leant back and swept his arm to find the pain killers and glass of water that he had put out for night time emergencies. Instead, he had to sit up and turn the light on to hand them to Q.

"Thanks, James," Q winced and rubbed his temples. "As soon as these kick in I will make some tea, and we can talk about last night. I need to explain some things to you. I don't want you to feel like you are leaping blind into this." He swallowed three of the pills, his hand shaking with the water glass.

"Stay where you are, it's freezing outside the covers," Bond rumbled as he scrambled out. Freezing or not, Bond seemed pretty comfortable walking downstairs, naked as the day he was born - save for the boxers he had slipped on earlier - He came back up in a bit with two mugs of tea and goosebumps.

"I started a fire but it's only five am... Give it an hour or so to warm up before breakfast..." He said, sliding back in with more grace then should really be allowed.

"Ah, thank you, that's lovely," Q wrapped his hands around the mug. It felt good on his aching wrists. "So, I think we jumped into a whole lot of things last night that you aren't familiar with. I want to make you feel good, I want you every way I can have you. But that won't work if you kill me, 007. How about we leave your license to kill out of the bedroom when its us?"

James expression had solidified into the usual unreadable mask, cold and hard. The flickering emotions buried behind years of training and memories.

"Sorry, I can't exactly turn it off. It's instinct," he replied coolly. "I will try not to kill you though."

"This isn't going to work if you won't talk to me, Bond," Q sighed. "This isn't me taking you hostage, this is two adults agreeing on what they are going to do. What I want to do is blindfold you, and put the cuffs on you. I don't want to attach them to anything, I want you to think of them as a way to let go. I want you to lay there, and enjoy the experience. As the sub, you have the safe word. You decide when you have had enough, and how fast we go. I'm just there to make you feel. And before we do anything else, we are going to discuss it first."

"No blindfolds," he said instantly, his gaze harsh... But then it slowly softened. "At least... Not yet. That would be too much, too soon. Why do you need need the cuffs? Symbolism?" He prompted and distracted himself by sipping the tea.

"For me, they mean that I am safe," Q said softly. "Its the one thing that Silva couldn't take from me, my trust. That's why I sleep with them on sometimes. I am safe to let go. I want to take you apart. I want to make you beg, and scream. I want you to feel pleasure like you've never felt. And I want you to accept that from me." He put down the empty mug.

"I want to touch every inch of you. I want to know what you taste like. I want to see what you look like when you aren't 007. I want you to show me what you like."

That was not what Bond meant. He meant why did he have to wear them. For a man who had been tied up, hurt, tortured, taken apart in the most hideous of ways, it was a terrible idea.  
But yet, the thought had some merit. To let go... To not have to think, to feel. He swallowed a lump in his throat and his voice sounded horse when he asked a vital question.

"Why me? Can't you ask me to destroy something instead?"

"I am asking you to destroy something," Q ran his fingers through Bond’s hair. "I'm asking you to destroy your need for control. And you, why you? Because who else would let me, except someone who knows what being broken means."

Bond shuddered, practically jerking under the touch that was trying to be soothing. Shard by icy shard, he felt himself softening. He licked his lips - they were dry again - and he felt like vomiting when he whispered, "I will try..."

"That's all I'm asking. What would you like for breakfast?" He took James' empty mug and slid his fingertips over the scarred knuckles. He bent to kiss each fingertip pad.

"Nothing... Maybe just some toast and coffee, actually..." Deep down, Bond knew he was hungry and knew that mentally, he was in trouble. He had to fight the urge to just wither and fade away.

"Well, we don't want you passing out during sex," Q scolded. "And you haven't been eating. Why don't you come sit in the kitchen while I cook?" Q reached for his trousers.

Bond made a strangled sound and his body betrayed him, going hard at the thought. He sat up and glared at Q.

"You did that on purpose," he accused as he went for his clothes, pulling them on slowly.

"Its not life or death, it's sex," Q pulled on his cardigan. "It can be fun. Sex for the first time with someone is awkward. Its knees and elbows; let yourself laugh. Its ok to enjoy it." He held out his hand to James.

Bond snorted softly and arched an eyebrow at him. "Sex with someone who isn't trying to kill me, manipulate me or distract me from doing my job... Quite often it _is_ life and death..."  
He took his hand and pulled himself up, before breaking the electric grip.

"We should probably go into the nearest town... Make sure we know where is is, and how to walk it, too..." he mused as he pulled his shirt on. Outside, the rain beat at the window.

"Do we have to right now, or can it wait until the rain stops?" Q shuddered at the weather. "I don't think anyone except assassins will be out in this. And I do make a decent omelet. Or we can walk, soaking wet, to the village. And have a greasy fry up at the pub while the locals scowl at us. At least my head feels better. I was hoping to take advantage of that fire."

Bond chuckled and the tension in him began to ease a little. "Assassins and the tourists who see this as excellent weather for walking and climbing... They usually get lost. Wait until later, perhaps we can have supper at the pub.”

Bond pulled on dark jeans and a cashmere navy turtle neck, looking exquisite as he did, even with thermal socks. The flagstones in the kitchen were cold.

"Exactly what kind of advantage did you want to take by that fire?" The agent purred before he went down to hunt down caffeine.


	7. Chapter 7

"I thought we could relax," Q was enjoying the view as he followed behind Bond. "I'm still behind on sleep, and I can't tell you the last day I worked that was less than 16 hours. Maybe a massage? And I have a couple of books."

He went to the fridge and pulled out ingredients for omelets, toast, and potatoes.

"Hmm... Relax..." Bond sounded dubious, and rightly so. When was the last time he relaxed? He had no bloody idea and he was already feeling restless. Quietly, he moved, chucking hot water in a pan and found an old coffee maker that would go on one of the hobs.

"Can we complain to MI6 that they should really have safe houses with hot running water?" Bond asked glaring at the tap.

"Yes, please!" Q smiled. "Do you want me to boil water for a bath?" He chopped fresh rosemary and garlic to put in with the potatoes. "There's fresh lavender I can put in."

He cracked the eggs into a bowl, put in some creme, and beat them with a fork. The bread was in a pan with butter and cinnamon.

"Or I can bring you coffee in the living room. That chair looks promising."

He shook his head. "No... One bath a day for me is enough... And I'm fine. I may be getting on, but I'm not decrepit yet," he replied as he found mugs, sugar and set about making tea.

Q came up behind him and grabbed the short hairs on the back of his neck.

"GO sit and relax," he growled in Bond’s ear. Then he licked the soft skin on the side of his neck. "Or I won't be responsible if you end up being breakfast."

Anger flared through the agent at the touch, and he bent back to relieve the pressure. His back cracked awkwardly, and he ended up sinking to one knee to account for the distances. Q was shorter and had a fistful of his hair and James really did not want to end up bald.

"Is there a reason you are kneeling?" Q's voice had gone soft as silk, a hint of danger in there that made James shudder. "I don't want you kneeling because you think I want it." He massaged the tense shoulders and bent to press a kiss to the nape of his neck.

"Because I would rather you not rip my hair out from the roots?" He replied dryly. It was also a lot harder for him to get out of it, one knee on the ground - his first instinct had been to break bones.

"JAMES, look at me," Q said. He could see Bond’s hands in tight fists at his side. "What are you afraid of? What are you fighting?" He held out his hand to help Bond stand.

"The urge to defend myself violently - you wouldn't stand a chance," he said the words simply as facts. If he lost control, if he panicked, he could and would blindly kill the boy. He didn't take his hand, instead of pushed up and went through to the living room, sitting by the fire and brooding.

Q let him take a minute to compose himself. He cooked the omelets, and added cheese. He made one large plate, heaped with potatoes, toast, and the omelets. And he brought two mugs, one of coffee and one of tea. He sat down at the foot of the chair and gazed at the fire. 

"Can you trust yourself enough to tell me that you are uncomfortable?"

"Uncomfortable?" He scoffed and leant forwards and plucked a slice of toast. "I am so far out of my comfort zone that I have no idea what I am doing," he grumbled. Petulant brat.

Q took it from his hand and held it out for him to bite. He offered a forkful of the potatoes as well.

"We aren't going to do anything we don't discuss, or you don't want to do," he reminded. "Let me take care of you, James. Stop being 007 for a few hours."

Bond rubbed the bridge of his nose where a headache was brewing in a spectacular fashion and rubbed his eyes. Let someone take care of him? Ha.

"I... I don't know how to let someone take care of me," Bond said in a rush, as if admitting this was causing embarrassment.

Q rubbed his thumb against the frown lines on James' forehead.

"Come down here, then," he patted the pile of blankets beside him. "Let's start simple."

Bond did so, moving slowly to sit on the pile of blankets, leaning forward to pluck a second slice of toast from the plate. The coffee had come with him, and he cupped it in both hands. As distrusting as he was, he had to admit to himself that he was, ultimately, rather curious.

"Would you like to try some eggs?" He asked, offering a forkful of omelet. " He pressed a kiss to the side of Bond’s mouth. He took the mug and tilted it so Bond could take a sip. Then he knelt between Bond’s legs and kissed him.

This was strange, but he had promised himself and Q that he would try… whatever game this was. He ate the eggs off the fork and washed them down with the coffee, never breaking the eye contact. It was threads of control that he didn’t want to lose… but the kiss soothed. His hands came to rest on his thighs as returned the kiss, breath leaving him in a sigh as it parted naturally. 

Q put everything down and took Bond’s face in his hands. He pressed small kisses over his eyelids, and exhaled against him, their foreheads pressed together.

"When was the last time someone seduced you, James? When is the last you made love?"

“Vesper…” he replied and then hesitated for a moment. That was a wound that had never healed – had it even started to? No… that pain was as raw as the day that she had betrayed him and drowned… chosen death then a chance to explain herself. “Or at least… I was … she… I don't know if she was...” he shook his head, and averted his blue eyes. “I don’t know, honestly.”

"James," Q took his face in his hand and made him meet him eyes. He leaned in and caught Bond’s bottom lip in his teeth. "I'm not Vesper." He crawled into the agent’s lap and wrapped his legs around his back.

Bond moaned, the sound a needy and desperate thing. That, and that shard of pain from the bite. It travelled down into his belly, uncurling into something hot, roiling. His hands came to rest on his hips, as convenient place as any, keeping him focused. Grounded.

He needed that anchor. 

Q was so hard it hurt. He moaned into Bond’s mouth, and rolled his hips against him, gripping Bond’s arse in his hands and pulled him as close as he could. Desperate to make Bond want him as much as he did.

The pace was slow at first but it soon turned into something hot, and his fingers curled against Q. Bond tugged him closer, hips rutting against Q’s. He broke the kiss, and turned his head to kiss at his chin and jaw and neck.

"Please, please let me touch you," Q was begging, desperate, eager to feel James' skin against his. "I want you, I want to take you apart.”

Bond scraped his teeth gently over his neck and right now, he would take Q any way he could. He nodded. "Okay... With a safe word..." That was one thing he would insist upon otherwise it was violence. 

"What do you want to use as your safeword?" Q was gasping. He could feel his pulse against Bond’s mouth, and was fighting to maintain control, not orgasm before they got their clothes off. He had his hands under James' sweater, fumbling with his trousers and belt. 

He paused softly, and ran his hands down to cup Q's ass. "Skyfall..." he said softly, and kissed him, lifting his hands, pushing the cardigan off his shoulders. 

The Quartermaster kissed him as softly as he could, tenderly. This was a man who thought about death more often than he thought about taking care of himself. He let Bond undress him, let him have the gentle exploration that he never got. He let him discover with no agenda, no mission, and nothing to prove.

"James," he wrapped his arms around his neck. 

Bond drew back with a sound, meak and wanting. 

"What?" He asked, pulling away to look at him, a slight frown.

"Why don't we just enjoy this for now? No handcuffs, no blindfolds. Any time you are uncomfortable, you can tell me, or use your safeword. But my rule is usually plain vanilla sex the first time, get comfortable with each other." He sighed and laid his head against Bond’s shoulder, curling up with contentment. 

Bond’s hands moved up and down his back lightly, kneading. He drew back only to lift his shirt over his head, letting out a breathy sigh as he went as he pondered the request. Vanilla… He could do that. Although most of his famous conquests were women, sometimes it was easier to lose himself in another man. Messy things like emotions and feelings got involved when he slept with women. Men… sometimes he prefered the simplicity. "Will you be okay with that?" The question was there in his tone. Bond was very much used to being in control in his sex life... And he didn't want to frighten the young man.

"I will tell you if I'm not," Q smiled. "As long as you don't attack me, I think I should be okay." He ran his hands over Bond’s chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin. He relaxed as he felt Bond’s heartbeat beneath his hands, and leaned in to kiss him. The fire felt good, and the man in his arms felt incredible.

The Agent let out a startled chuckle at that and eased himself back so that Q was on top, straddling him. He shivered and it had nothing to do with the draft as he gave Q the first baby step towards his submission. Him being on top, Bond making himself relax below him.

Q sighed, and stretched, rubbing himself against Bond. He ached, in such a good way. He was gentle, no sudden moves. He kept eye contact as he leaned down to take one nipple in his mouth, and groaned as the nipple pebbled in his mouth. He licked the salty skin of Bond’s chest, and down his stomach. He was hard, and so was the man beneath him.

"Would you like me to touch you? How about if I just make myself cum and you can watch?" He teased, sliding down Bond’s body to nuzzle at his erection.

His arms slid back and he pushed up onto his elbows to watch Q's descent with hot, fascinated eyes. The way a cat watches a mouse scuttle. Intense, dark and hard.

"Touch me..." There was a slightly lilt to voice, as if he was holding back the urge to beg, to plead.

"Hmmm?" Q hummed against Bond, tugging at his belt with his teeth. He could feel how hard Bond was breathing, and he wanted him a little more desperate. He tongued at his hip bones, and bathed him with his tongue, teasing out little noises of pleasure. 

He decided to have some mercy, and slid off the trousers and pants, taking Bond in his mouth with a swallow that had him fighting to to finish on the spot.

Bond whined and made himself lay back, clawing at the blankets that Q had brought down. His hands worked, as if he was gripping for dear life. He wanted to seize control, to demand and to take and then forget all of this… Fight or flight, it was as ingrained in him as breathing.

Q could feel Bond tensing up. It wasn't arousal, it was fear of the unknown. He slid back up Bond’s body and kissed him softly.

"You're doing so well, and you taste so good," he praised. "How are you feeling?" He laid down beside Bond, keeping his touch continuous on his skin, a connection even if it wasn't sexual.  
Bond shifted, one arm going behind his head. His shiver had very little to do with the chill as the rain poured outside, rattling the windows. The wind howled, whipping past there little so called safe haven.

"I'm naked and letting someone else touch me... How do you think I'm feeling?" He shot back, his voice laced with frustration.

"As scared as I am? How about I tell you about me, so I’m not such a stranger? My name is Gabriel," he laid his head on Bond's shoulder. "Our parents died when we were 10, and Zahir and I went to live with my grandmother." His voice is soothing, hoping that Bond would see it for the laying bare of his scars that it was. "My parents weren't around long enough to see Zahir become Z. They just knew we were inseparable and wanted everything the same. Same hair cuts, same clothes, and same friends. My grandmother, she was very religious. There were times I had to get between her and Z, because she said it was an abomination to want to be a boy." Q soothed his hand up and down Bond’s arm, trying to calm him.

"That must have been hard," Bond’s arm went around him, fingers rubbing gently over his skin. "Although I never had you pegged as Gabriel. The double-oh betting pool... No one will win..."

"We all have our demons we fight. Mine was that I am gay. For Z, it was because he identified as a boy," his voice was soft. Bond was comfortable in his role as protector. Now to get him to open up. "Tell me something about you?"

Bond shrugged as he relaxed back, listening to the fire. "You have read my file..." He replied thoughtfully. " What do you want to know?"

"Tell me why, why you were going to leave MI6. What didn't the file say?"

"Vesper... I was ready to pack the whole thing up and travel the world... Then settle down..." He replied slowly, as if choosing the words with care.

"I've never loved someone like that," Q sighed. "Don't think I believe in it, really. So, you are planning to retire out at some point?"

" No," No hesitation. "I couldn't live somewhere normal... Not after everything..." Everyone knew that 00's had a short shelf life and few retired. Most went out in a blaze and returned home in a box. Or boxes.

"Normal? What does that even mean to people like us, James? Nothing about us has been normal," Q shook his head. "It would be nice to come home to someone, though. Silly dream, really."


	8. Chapter 8

"It would be nice to have a home to come to. You saw my flat, Q... It's as clinical as a hospital," lips quirked into a smile. "Maybe I should buy a rug..."

"A rug?" Q laughed and leaned over to kiss him. "I think it’s beyond that. Maybe you should buy a wife."

Bond laughed out loud, his arm tightening. "And have Alec sleep with her? I think not..." He twisted and tugged Q over him, smirking. "I know what you’re doing, Q."

"Are you selling me off to Alec?" He smiled. "What am I doing, James?"

"You’re trying to get me to relax," his lip curled in an tilt. "You’re trying to get me to let go."

"No," Q shook his head. "I want you to be comfortable enough to want to let go. Any ideas about how I can help you do that?" He reached down and took Bond's cock in his hand.

Bond didn't know how to answer, but the touch made him sigh. His head fell back and his eyes closed for a moment. He squirmed a little, relishing in the touch before it broke with a breathless sigh.

"When I find out... I will let you know..." Hips rolled, a languid, fluid motion.

"Keep your eyes closed," Q instructed. He reached for the lube he had brought from the bedroom, and kept touching James to distract him. He poured some lube over James' fingers. "Now, touch me," he breathed against his ear with a sigh.

James frowned at the order, and opened his eyes instantly... Before closing them. He exhaled a shaking breath, grounding and calming himself. It was fine. He was safe, with Q.  
The lube smeared on to his fingers, and his hand wrapped slowly around Q's cock, the thumb flicking over the head lightly and circling the crown.

"No, stretch me out," Q breathed. "Let me give this to you." Bond's fingers were amazing, but he wanted to give him more.

James jerked his hand slightly and his fingers slid low, brushing his balls, smearing the gel over his anus before pushing slowly in with an easy, confidant motion.

"James," Q moaned. "You feel so good." He moved back against his fingers. "Don't tease, I won't last."

"So come," he said, scissoring his fingers, before they curled deliciously inside, seeking out that sweet spot.

"JAMES, NO!" Q used his quartermaster voice. "I want you inside me, NOW!” He softened his voice. "Please, James, let me give you this."

Frowning, James crooked his fingers away from the prostate, and pulled away, slipping a third in, carefully stretching.

Q leaned in to kiss him, an affectionate kiss to tease away the frown. He nuzzled against James, biting at his ear. 

"I want you, I want you to take me. Show me what you like." He leaned into Bond's touch. "Please?"

The bite sent a red hot wave of something through Bond that made his knees weak and his mind slow. He curled into that touch, already turning Q and kneeling up.

"What are you thinking about?" Q reached down to bite a nipple. "Tell me what you are thinking about." He raked his nails against Bond’s skin.

"That's good..." He said. Words seemed slightly slurred, as if he had one too many, like a slow, creeping fog across his thoughts. The bite made it thicken slightly, and he twisted his fingers into Q's hair, pulling him in for a savage kiss.

Q could see him slipping into sub space, but it was clear he had no idea what was happening.  
He leaned into the touch, and straddled James, positioning himself to take Bond's cock. He wanted James desperate, past caring about how he appeared. And he wanted him willing, willing to take him because Q desired it.

Bond groaned into his mouth, and his hands went to Q's hips, clawing with need. Breakfast was long forgotten - he wasn't hungry, anyway - and he slowly pushed up, sliding into Q with a slow ease that left him panting.

"James!" Q was on fire, the ache in him finally fulfilled. He rolled his hips against James, looking for his reactions. He reached in and bit into the skin on James' collar bone, moaning in relief. He fucked himself on Bond's cock, trying to bring James off before him.

The agent's breath hitched as he fought the mental fog, not understanding it, not liking it. It scared him, feeling like his senses were skewed. The bite, once again, blew all his effort to waste and Bond cried out sharply with it, effortlessly meeting Q's motion.

Q was determined to cum without James touching his erection, just to cum from James fucking him. He looped his arms around Bond's neck, and arched against him, a lithe feline in heat, desperate.

It was an... Embarrassingly short length of time before James felt the tell tail quickening. He pressed into Q's neck, exerting every ounce of self control over his wayward body, to try and hold off.

Q wanted to feel James, feel his body respond. He wanted to see him lose control, let go. He wanted to see him allow himself pleasure. So he clenched his muscles around him, and bit down on his neck.

James came and came hard, a strangled noise leaving him. It was a harsh sound, almost pained as he held on to the boy, his body quivering.

Q kissed him back down to reality, licking the salty sweat from his neck. He was still hard, but it could wait until James was conscious of his surroundings again. He wiped the wet hair off of Bond’s forehead, and kneaded at his trembling shoulders, his chest still heaving from the exertion. 

Bond grunted, his arms around him. He blinked slowly as he came back to himself, his awareness extending around then. Gripping his hips, Bond held his hips and thrust up to him, hard determined to press him over the edge into oblivion.

Q felt Bond become aware again, his hands on Q's hips. Q was closer than he thought, because all it took was a couple of thrusts to drive him over the edge, his release spilling hot across their stomachs. He collapsed against Bond, boneless and sated. He took his hand, and sucked Bond's thumb into his mouth, suckling on his finger tip like a babe.

Bond groaned and lay back on the rug by the fire, tugging Q down against him, rubbing the small of his back. He didn't tug his hand free, just watched with a sleepy gaze.

Q curled into the curve of his body, sleepy. His body was still humming from the orgasm, a languid warmth that made him smile. He licked at Bond's finger, and kissed his chest, drowsing on his shoulder. He pulled the duvet up over them, Bond’s hand on his back the last thing he felt as sleep overtook him.

James stayed there on the carpet, but the peace didn't last long. It never did, and he found the urge to move maddening. Very slowly, very carefully he moved, lifting Q up and into the sofa before dressing. He needed to do something physical, something to figure out what was wrong with him. Woodcutting for the fire. That would help. He slipped outside and let Q sleep.

Q was drifting. He could feel the shifting of his body, but the warmth seemed to leave. He tossed and turned for a bit, and then opened his eyes. He was alone, which wasn't surprising. 

He dressed as he wandered through the house, but Bond wasn't in any of the rooms. He could hear a noise outside, and saw Bond through the window, chopping wood. He put on water for tea, and a larger pot to fill the bath, then pulled on an overcoat and shoes to go join him. 

The agent felt more then saw Q approaching, and blanked it out as he worked. The axe was an extension of himself, and he used it with a deadly, almost unearthly grace. The pile was big enough to get them though the rest of the day, and he set it down by driving it into the nearest stump, and leant against it. His gaze wandered up to the mountains, dark and moody in the morning sky, and he sucked in a breath of clean mountain air before bending to scoop up the pile.

"James..." Q kept his voice soft. He didn't want the agent to react badly with a sharp weapon that close. "How about some tea, and we can get cleaned up and head to the pub? I put water on to boil to get cleaned up."

"It's going to rain again," Bond predicted in a gruff voice as he prowled past Gabriel and up to the house. He was annoyed, frustrated at himself for his own rather pathetic reactions. "But yeah, tea is fine."

"James, look at me," Gabriel paused in the entryway to shake off outer clothes and muddy boots. He poured two mugs of tea and held one out. "Don't shut me out now, tell me what you're thinking. I wanted you to have me, so you could see, feel. So tell me what it is that it made you think about."

James took the mug and for a moment, looked like he was considering dumping the contents over Q's head. He answered the question with a question. 

"What exactly did you want me to see or feel?"

"There's no right answer, James, no formula," he answered, "its depends on you. For example, when I let you fuck me, it was trust. It was terrifying, but I trusted you to be careful. The last person I bottomed for was Silva, and I'm sure you know it wasn't pleasant. So, it depends. Were you scared? Vulnerable? Safe? All of those things? No wrong way to feel. You just have to let yourself feel. And the unknown is the greatest threat of all."

It was feeling. That was the point, it made him feel vulnerable, excited, safe and terrified all at the same time. 

"Why are you asking me then, Freud?" He snapped as he went back to the front room and sat on one of the chairs, unable to look at the blankets on the floor. Why had Q brought them down? When? "What do you want me to say? I enjoyed it? My reactions said that, I felt practically drunk on it... I don't know why..."

"Ahhh... that's what's bothering you." Q sat on the blankets at James' feet, his mug of tea in hand. He enjoyed the feeling of the warmth of the fireplace on his skin, and James looked so vulnerable. He tried to appear as non confrontational as possible. "That’s called sub space. Its when the adrenalin impacts you, your body responds differently. You can experience sensations completely differently than you normally would. Like pain, for instance. We are programmed to think of pain as a negative, but when you are in subspace, your body can interpret it as pleasure. I think you are probably experiencing sub drop right now, resisting and trying to fight it and your body goes through the fight or flight sensations. Its actually quite normal. You should have seen me my first time." Gabriel blushed.

"Granted, its not a good idea to let someone Dom you that you can't trust. I didn't know how bad he was at first. I was a mess for days Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, depression, anxiety... everything at once. Why don't you come and sit with me? Touch can help."

Bond shivered, an echo of every bite brushing through his skin like a phantom kiss. He moved and came and sat beside Q, scowling like a three year old.

Q carded his fingers through Bond's hair, feeling the slight trembling of limbs. He kissed his cheek softly, and laid Bond's head against his shoulder. Their backs against the chair James had occupied, James stared at the fire. He pulled a blanket around their shoulders and tried to soothe James with his steady breathing and soft touch.

Bond... Couldn't do this. He could not stand it, the apparent comforting touches, trying to soothe something that he simply didn't get. He shifted, uncomfortable and scowling before sighing. "I need to get out for a bit - let's walk into town..."

"Ok," Q smiled.. He could feel the tension vibrating off of Bond. Time to let the agent work some of it out in his head. The trick would be keeping him from panicking too badly, and shutting down.

They suited up in wet weather gear and walking boots before walking into the local town. Twenty minutes at Bond’s stride to find the local village. "This is quaint," Bond muttered as they crossed the little bridge over the stream. Q was drifting. He could feel the shifting of his body, but the warmth seemed to leave. He tossed and turned for a bit, and then opened his eyes. He was alone, which wasn't surprising. The village was a pretty little thing, little more than a high street that ran alongside the river and a stone bridge that allowed cars to pass over it and into the next one. The general store was shut apparently, but there was a few other shops and the pub was open and Bond could see the flickering warmth of flames.

"I need to get out of the city more often," Q looked around. "Can't remember the last time I didn't go into the office for 24 hours. Oh, I think I'll go to the bookstore. Haven't indulged in new reading material in so long." The store looked inviting, and Q spent a few minutes in the poetry section. 

"Hello there, little fellow," he smiled at a tuxedo cat with green eyes the same shade as his own, as the cat came and meowed at him rather insistently. He picked up the volume that the cat knocked off the shelf and added it to his pile without looking at the cover.

Bond followed him into the store but headed straight for the non-fiction section, as if he had an instinct for it. The books he selected were related to his work. Weaponry, martial arts, field medicine... He went back to trailing after Q before spotting the shop across the road.

"Have you ever rock climbed?" He asked, turning back with a wicked gleam in his eyes. The shop was for mountaineers, and it felt like an age since Bond climbed for fun.

"Rock climbed? Why on earth-" Q shrugged. "I'm rather afraid of heights. So all that jumping out of perfectly good planes, and climbing mountains just for the thrill of it, usually not my cup of tea. But I suppose you will tell me it’s because I don't know what I am missing?"

"If I say that, then it means you could turn that line back on me when referring to you and your... Ah... Lifestyle? Is that the right word?" He asked as he dumped the books in front of the sleepy looking clerk.

"Oh no, really? LIFESTYLE? Bloody hell Bond!" Q left a pile of bills for the clerk and stalked out.


	9. Chapter 9

Bond rolled his eyes. What else was he supposed to say? He sure as hell wasn't apologising for that one, and left the Quartermaster to cool while he got the climbing equipment and ended up in the pub.

Q sat at the local coffee shop, an espresso in his hands. This was a no win situation. They were both stubborn as hell. He was shaking he was so angry. Lifestyle, was he talking about BDSM? Being gay? It just rankled him wrong! It was time to take Bond in hand. He stood and squared his shoulders. Well, vanilla wasn't working. He slipped into his Dominant mindset and went to track down the agent. It took time, but he found Bond in the pub. He went to the bar and ordered food, but no alcohol. Someone needed to be in control tonight. And Bond already had several empty glasses in front of him.

By the time that Bond realised that Q was even in the room, he was far more than a little drunk. He hid it well... But he didn't want to stay in the room with the young man. He didn't want that confusion. Passing out was a better option.

He left the bar and went to the village shop to get a few staples. A bottle of twelve year old Talisker Scotch was amongst them, and Q would come home go find Bond fast asleep in bed, the bottle completely empty beside him. 

Q finished dinner and walked back to the house. He knew what he would find wouldn't be pleasant. He steeled himself as he opened the door, carrying his sack of books and tracked down James. The agent seemed to have skipped drunk and gone to hang over. He was fully dressed, curled up in the foetal position, deeply deeply asleep. Leave him to sleep, or wake him up? Q tried to decide. He wasn't sure if it would be better to approach him while he was drunk, or wait for him to sleep it off.

In the end, the choice was taken from Q as the agent began to stir, talking under his breath... Then he squirmed, voice raising. " No... NO! Don't touch her!"

Q's stomach hurt suddenly. He was all too familiar with that feeling, the terror. So this was what James dreamed about when he closed his eyes. The woman that he loved being hurt. Q shook his shoulder, trying to wake him up from the dream.

James, twisted and then jerked awake harshly, grabbing Q's wrist. The other went outwards, searching for a weapon in blind panic until he realised who it was.

"James, I'm sorry, she isn't here," Q winced, the grip on his wrist made his already aching carpal tunnel much worse. "I'm sorry I frightened you. But that hurts. Can you sit up?”

James grunted an acknowledgement and sat up slowly, releasing Q's wrist as he did. "Sorry..." He yawned, but his eyes were already threatening to close again.

"James, can you talk to me? Tell me what you are seeing when you close your eyes," Q sighed. "I've been there, too many nights when I am alone. It’s not something you should have to endure by yourself. You aren't the only MI6 orphan that showed up at M's house in the middle of the night."

"Memories... All of them... Vesper. That bitch... Le Chiffre... M..." Alcohol had loosened his tongue. "Why do I bother thinking about her? She is gone but still haunts my dreams..."

"Because you loved her," Q took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. "No matter how it turned out in the end, something made you love her, once. I know you like making fun of my 'lifestyle' as you call it, but I think letting go would do you a world of good."

Bond snorted rudely and arched an eyebrow at the man, before he lay back on the couch. "People die when I do. You know that..."

"What I know is that nothing you have done so far has worked. What do you have to lose? I'm going to give you the option one last time. Tomorrow, noon. I want you waiting for me on the carpet in front of the fireplace if this is something that you want to try. If you don't want that, don't be there. And I won't mention it ever again. But I have been where you are, and I know what submitting means."

Bond heard the words, heard the meaning behind them. Did he want to submit? No. Fuck no. First to Q then to every other traitorous... He jerked himself out of that thought but was fast asleep once again before he could think though it all.

That night, he dreamed... Strange dreams that morphed and danced before his eyes. Q was in them. The next day, when he opened his eyes (and promptly wished he hadn't) all he could recall was the lingering taste of strawberries. His dream was taunting him with sweet aphrodisiacs, reminding him of Gabriel’s mouth.

With a groan, he rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. After purging his stomach of everything he had ever eaten, he set about recovering from his binge. It was late morning... Almost midday.

A cold bath, several strong cups of coffee later, the young Quartermaster would come in and find him sitting on the floor in front of the fire place, looking completely nonchalant. Eating toast as he read.

Q didn't wait around to see what James would decide. He could think of a hundred ways for the scenario to go, and few of them involved James waiting on the rug. He walked into the village for espresso, and a break from the oppressive silence of the house. He brought one of his new books, a small volume of poetry.

Q wasn't sure what he would find when he returned to the house. He tried to blame his pounding heart on the walk and the espresso. But it was far from the case. His hands shook as he unlocked the door… to James sitting on the carpet, reading. Looking like every wet dream he had as a teenager.

James didn't respond when Q came in until he had crunched the last slice of toast and gulped the last mouthful of coffee. The book snapped shut in the silence as he waited. The slight tremble of coiled muscles betrayed his own nervous tension.

Q didn't say anything, just sat down beside him. It reminded him of the gallery. Although, this time it was James who had the spots. This was Q's world.

"Brave new world, James?

He chuckled softly, looking into the flames. "Something like that..." He said very slowly, keeping his gaze averted.

"Get undressed, James," Q slipped off his shoes. He rolled up his sleeves and looked at the book.  
Q knelt in front of James, and lifted his chin to see his eyes.

Bond met his eyes with a blank, defensive gaze. His walls were sky high, strong and hard. But he did so, with slow, deliberate movements. He worked to keep his breath steady. In and out... In and out as the shirt slid off... The trousers and then the boxers until he was nude. 

"How much do you want?" Q matched his breaths and kept his gaze locked on his eyes. "Do you want sex? Or do you want to submit?" James needed to say the words, be a willing participant. "This is about your consent, me accepting what you want to give. Your limits. I have been where you are."

"I... I don't know..." He looked down at himself, keeping his breaths deep and slow. He glanced at the flames. "I have no idea what my limits are... I just have to trust you, I guess..."

"Look at me," Q's voice was soft. He ran a hand through Bond’s hair. "Thank you. I promise that I won't break that trust." He ran his hands down Bond’s shoulders, running his fingertips over the scars. He could feel them, match them with the incident reports in the file. The scar that matched the bullet wound in his shoulder, with the knife scars where he had dug out the shrapnel. 

He touched Bond’s ribs, running his hands across the smooth stomach, and up his back. Then he ran his hands over Bond’s legs, feeling the soft hairs that didn't show on the blond. By the time he stilled his hands, James had goosebumps.

James was still and at some point during the touches, his eyes had drifted closed. His head moved, leaning into his touch. His breath caught as fingers traced his ribs and he squirmed, panting now as it tickled... When the hands stilled, he slowly opened his eyes, blinking slowly. Questioning.

Q leaned in and kissed him, slowly. He traced kisses over the line of his jaw, and down his throat. He kept his hands on Bond’s lower back, keeping him close. He leaned in and sucked on his ear lobe, and butted his head against his neck. 

Bond, for a wonder, let him. He was still, his hands gripping the carpet as if he was unsure what to do with them, but the touch was grounding. It drew his mind from the humiliation and the whine that came from his throat.

"James," Q breathed his name, his breath ghosting over the wet ear lobe. "Lay on your stomach. I'm going to take you apart with my tongue."

The breath was sucked in through flared nostrils, a primal fear in his eyes. For a moment, it seemed he was going to back out... Then he moved, slowly shifting to lay on his front.

He started at the nape of James' neck, small warm licks that left his skin damp. When he got down the spine, he bit at each hip bone. He lathed his tongue down the small of James' back, and slid his warm tongue right into his crack. He spread his cheeks, and teases his tongue with the tip of his hole. Then he leaned to nuzzle at the soft skin between his legs, sucking on each side of the ball sack with a lewid slurp.

Bond started stiff, tense, but it didn't take long until he was melting under the gentle touch, focusing on feel until it fluttered over his anus. He froze at the feel and a tortured whine came from him, but he was moving again. At some point the sounds turned into a thready cry - he was not sure when - as time seemed to have gone still.

Q felt him relax, at long last, and rewarded him for it. Kisses on his soft skin, he bathed him like a kitten with his tongue. He teased Bond’s hole, and he was so hard himself it was a delicious ache in his belly.

He was moaning, the taste, the feeling, the trust was such a sweet surrender. He could feel the precum leaking, the wetness on his thighs. Ah that he was here, now. Two days ago he wouldn't have thought.

Bond held the white knuckled grip on the rug, fingering the edge as he tried to get control of himself, reign in the hormones that had him feeling like a teenager.

"James," Q moaned against his skin. He was going to come in his pants, like it was his first time.  
He sunk his teeth into Bond’s' cheek, and came, a rush of white noise and a blinding burst of fire behind his eyelids. So much for being in control.

He blinked back at him, a lazy and almost sleepy gaze... If it wasn't for the blistering heat behind them. A fire that had ignited at the bite, flooding blood between his legs.

Q renewed his attack on Bond’s hole with his tongue, a tip pressing, then broad licks with the flat of his tongue. He grabbed his thighs and pulled him as close as he could to dive in. That was heady, a combination of the after effects of his orgasm, the clench of James' muscles, and he slid a finger in to curl against his prostate as well.

He felt the muscle begin to relax around the tongue, becoming soft and malleable. This was a new sensation. Sure he had done it... But never on the receiving end. Then there was the blunt pressure as a finger penetrated. He stiffened, clenching against the intrusion.

It took such a small crook of the finger, rubbing that small bit of flesh. If Bond’s reaction was any indication, the tensing, no one had ever done this before. He opted for gentle pressure, let the arousal build. He stoked the fire with his tongue, the taste of body on his lips was heady.

It took time before the muscles relaxed again, and he let out a quivering moan, head in his hands. He was hard. Horribly so and making a mess of the carpet, white salty precome leaking. 

Q ran one finger over the tip of Bond's cock, his tongue stroking him as he added another finger inside him. This would be enough. And beautiful to watch. Q could feel his skin get chills as he got down to the business of taking Bond’s walls apart.

James came and came hard. A wordless cry of white hot pleasure and he was dying or so it felt, rutting against the hand, maddeningly trying to find some sort of friction, to extend the pleasure until he sagged on his belly, vaguely aware of the sticky sensation on his skin.

Q hands ran over Bond’s skin, a grounding touch. He kissed each vertebrae on his spine, nuzzling at the fine hairs on his lower back. Q laid down and pulled James back against him, rubbing his hands over the prominent hip bones. He nuzzled at the sweaty neck, and pulled a blanket over them, pillowing his arm under Bond’s head. The agent was enveloped in Q's body, safe to come down, guarded by the gentle touch of the man he had chosen to allow to Dom him.

James shivered in his grasp, mouth opening and closing somewhat like a fish. Later, he would be humiliated by his reactions... Now, he was still seeing stars. Naked and covered in his own ejaculation, he curled into him. It was almost shock, how he reacted and he twitched until he started to drift.

Q kept him anchored in his arms, as he felt James drift off to sleep. He watched the fire, marveling at the fact that it wasn't yet 1 PM. It was a heady feeling, eliciting that type of response from a man so normally guarded. He reached for the book he had been reading, and found his place, guarding the agent while he slept.

James didn't stay asleep long, only long enough for his heart to ease to a normal rhythm and his body temperature to cool. He awoke with a start, eyes wide and disorientation in his thoughts... Until he felt a touch, familiar and warm. Bond exhaled and made himself relax.

James lay pliant in his arms, and Q pressed a kiss to his hair.


	10. Chapter 10

"Welcome back," he cleared his throat. "Can I get you anything?"

"Mmm..." The voice had the delicious post sex slur. "No... I'm okay... I'll get myself a drink..." He muttered and rolled into his back and then to sit up. It took him a moment to do it, the blood rushing back to a normal rhythm around his body. 

Bond shivered. He had let someone take him apart.

"Let me," Q went to the kitchen and started the kettle. He brought a glass of water, and a bowl of berries. He handed James the glass and petted his hair as he drank. Then he fed him, trailing his fingers across James' lips.

Bond pulled back slowly, suddenly uncomfortable with the touch. He didn't mind the touching... But the feeding? 

"What are you doing?" He demanded without any real heat.

"Taking care of you," Q lifted his chin to catch his glance. "Don't shut me out now. This is how I treat a sub. Not because I want anything, because you gave me your submission,and I consider _that_ a sacred trust."

"I did?" He sounded confused by that, a little worried almost. He had done it? All he had done was take. He frowned, clearly unused to the new roles and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Let me get us some tea, the warmth will do you good," Q tucked him into the blanket, and went to pour the tea. He put on a couple of large pots for water for a bath, and made more toast.

"Here, sip on this," he handed James a mug of sweetened tea. "You did really well. Thank you for allowing me to take care of you." He put the plate of toast between them, and fed James a piece. "I'm heating some water for a bath, so I can help you bathe. And we can clean those stitches."

"Is my protest going to change the outcome of this in any way?" He asked, his tone bristling with ice. He blinked slowly as he sipped on tea and toast. He had counted on the sex... The orgasm... But this was making him deeply uncomfortable and he wasn't sure why. He shifted, and the discomfort was clear with every movement, the restless energy.

"If you say stop, I will stop," Q tried to keep him calm. "Whatever you are comfortable with. I want you to feel good, and secure. I'll go fill the tub."

Q carried in the pots of water and added salts to the tub. He laid out towels and a robe, and the oil.

"Whenever you are ready, James."

Q went to the bathroom and tested the water. It was just hot enough to soothe his sore muscles. He settled into the water to wait for James and closed his eyes.

Bond came in and had pulled his boxers on to wander through the house. Embarrassment wasn't really in his vocabulary, but there was something about the idea of being caught with his pants down that was very unappealing. That and he was very confused about everything, feeling isolated from the world. What was wrong with him?

He came in, bare feet barely making a sound as he stood in the doorway and for a long moment, just watched Q relax in the water. Bond massaged the shoulder that he had dug a bullet out of and after a few moments, cleared his throat to make the Quartermaster aware that he was being watched. 

"Get in, it feels good," Q didn't open his eyes. "Come sit so I can rub your shoulders." He spread his legs and reached for the oil. He could feel the anxiety rolling off James in waves.   
“Three steps forward, two back.” He held out his hand.

It was an appropriate saying, three steps forward and two back. Bond was as skittish as a wild foal trying to be broken in. He stepped forwards slowly and took his hand before stepping into the water, pausing to kick off the boxers as he did. A clumsy awkward motion.

"I can bring you back from the field, James. Let me take care of you here," Q pulled him back against his chest and rubbed warm oil over his skin. "You know how to be taken advantage of, let me take care of you, no strings attached."

“Why?” Bond demanded, petulant as a teenager who had been told to clean his room.

"Because I can. Because I like caring for someone," he kneaded at the knots on James' neck and shoulders. Bond shuddered under his touch and he grinned. "Because that is what a good Dominant does, rewards the submission that they are given. Earns trust, so you know you have a safety net to push your limits. And because I get lonely. It would be nice to not spend the night in my office just to avoid an empty apartment full of ghosts and regrets."

Bond scowled. 

"When you are ready to try something that you aren't ready for now, and when you need to be taken out of your head. When you need to unwind after a mission. When you need someone there to wake you up from the nightmares, because they are eating you alive, and the alcohol isn't working anymore," Q sighed. "And because I'm selfish."

Bond shivered. This was all a loaded gun for Bond, but it was one that seemed to fit the idea of a safe word. He did not know how to respond to the rest.

"I want you kneeling at my feet in trust, and surrender. No terror, no fear. My grandmother followed the old ways, and she used to tell me, 'in perfect love and perfect trust'. I want to help you heal. And maybe somehow heal, that I couldn't save Z."

"You can't save everyone, Q," Bond said, the words aimless and his voice drifting with warmth, comforted by the water. "So what are the rules to this?" Sensible questions, painting a picture in his own head.

"That you tell me when you are uncomfortable, and tell me how you are doing. Talk to me, tell me when something interests you. Tell me when you are having a bad day, and need to get out of your head. Or tell you when you need to be held," Q ran his hands over James skin, lulled to contentment. "And I will do the same. It’s not all about power, or all about sex. It’s about being able to get what you need, and know that the other person has your best interests in mind. Communication. Probably much more than you are used to. Tell me if you're a romantic, or you just want sex. I'm sure you can tell, I'm very tactile. I love to touch, I love affection, and I'm a hopeless romantic. I learned bloody Italian to read love poems," he smiled. 

Bond laughed, a soft rolling sound that was rich and warm. "Italy. Nice place... I stole a yacht there once..." he mused thoughtfully, remembering the incident, the mission. "You're right about the communication - I don't like filling in paper work, let alone talking about it."

"What if the awkwardness was preventable? Rather than filling out paperwork, communicating to your lover what you wanted?" He shivered as James laughed, it left him aching to touch him again. "Are you going to steal me a boat so I read you poetry?”

"Talking is harder than paperwork. I don't talk. Ever.. And this area is called the lake district for a reason. If you want to sail, it's a doable activity."

"You seem quite capable of talking to me," Q chuckled. "Although you do seem a bit more surefooted when I'm in your ear on those honeypot missions. This is me in my element. A boat... hmmm. I've never sailed. Is that something we can do in the rain? We are already wet."

"All conditions," Bond replied. "I can sail - weather should be good. We could hire a boat for the day..." He mused thoughtfully and turned to look at him. "Unless you wanted to go this afternoon or...?" He wondered if Q had more plans.

"Whenever you like," Q stretched and shifted James in his arms. "No rush. We can do whatever you're in the mood for. I was thinking about putting on something to cook for dinner and reading in front of the fire for awhile. Or..." he ran his hand down James' stomach. "I'm sure there are other things we can do."

Bond shuddered with delight and pressed back into his arms, his breath hitching as lines of fire ran through his body, following Q's touch and he moaned.

"Care to join me and do nothing?" Q pulled the plug to let the water drain. "I will put something in the oven for later, and you can tell me about... sailing." He bit Bond's ear lobe.

The pain shot through him, sending blood rushing out of control, straight towards his groin. He liked that. He wanted the feel of those teeth everywhere, taking him to bits while he could do nothing. Bond shuddered, his hands gripping the edge of the tub.

"Go meet me by the fire, I will put dinner in the oven. I think I saw a roast and some vegetables in the refrigerator," Q laid a kiss on his nose and wrapped himself in a towel. He wrapped James in a towel and went to the kitchen.

He put in a roast, with turnips, carrots, and potatoes. He brought out mugs of tea, and shed his towel as he sat down next to James.

Bond was still drying himself by the fire which was once again roaring. He sat uneasily on the edge of the sofa, as if not sure if it was the right place any more.

"I put dinner in the stove," Q shook his wet hair. He ran his fingers down James' arm and laid down at his feet. He stretched out in front of the fire and picked up his book. He stroked James' bare leg, content to be close Bond without him panicking. 

James ended up sliding to the floor beside him, dragging one of the cushions down to rest his head on it, watching the flames dance and jump. He allowed the heat to relax him into a sleepy daze, blinking slowly.

It was a while before he decided to take advantage. Let Bond rest, let him catch up… not for that long through. Q rolled over to lie on James' shoulder, running his hands down his stomach. He slid down to bite at his nipples, and grind his hips against him. 

The agent breathed out slowly, a shudder running through his body as he became alert. His hands went around his shoulder, kneading the skin gently until Q bit. He groaned, his eyes following Q's path.

"Tell me what you want, James. I will give you anything you ask for." Q bit at his skin, tracing down his stomach to his treasure trail of hair. He tugged at the taut skin with his teeth, rubbing wantonly against James' leg with his erection.

Every bite made him shudder, even when he could see it coming and he found himself licking his lips. The bites... They were turning him on in a way that made him squirm. He searched for the words to describe it, but a particularly sharp bite on his hips obliterated words. He whined, a high pitched, needy sound before breathed a curse.

"Ah, like that, do you?" Q smiled fondly at him. He worried at the skin, teasing James with small swipes of his tongue. He reached up to pin James' hands at his sides, and then bit him on the other hip in the same spot.

James growled, tugging at Q's arm instinctively, but he didn't over power Q. It made him pause for a moment, paused and think. Q could do nothing that he didn't agree too by the simple fact that he was faster and stronger and could kill him in six different ways without breaking a sweat. He really did have the power in this…

He was a bloody assassin for Christ sake. It had taken him this long?

Q felt the minute that James submitted, that he stopped fighting. And he rewarded it, bites to his inner thighs, a nuzzling at his balls. He crawled back up James' body to kiss him, an all encompassing kiss that stole James' breath. Q put everything he had into the kiss, and it left him feeling heady and impossibly turned on.

James melted into the kiss, his fingers flexing and relaxing, and tried to follow it, but then Q was gone. He grumbled an incoherent protest and squirmed, feeling oddly bereft.

Q reached for the lube, and went back to James, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Will you roll over for me?" He kept his body pressed against the agent, since James seemed uneasy when they weren't touching. Such a difference from the previous day, when he didn't want to be touched. Q kept his hands in constant motion, a soothing, firm touch. 

He did so, making an oof sound, having been perhaps a little too eager with the roll. The air came from his lungs in a rush and he settled, one arm under his head to get comfortable. 

Q laid down on top of him, taller than the agent, but with slender shoulders. He wrapped his arms around the agent, enveloping him with warmth and bare skin. He could smell James, the warm skin from the fire, the salt of his arousal, and the masculine smell of being draped over the man. It had been so long since he had been this comfortable with someone himself.

The agent was falling apart in so many ways and he could barely bring himself to hate it. Bond shuddered under the careful touches, the gentle caresses and closed his eyes. Again, he could throw Q off and break several bones, but it was more of a case that he didn't need to... He relaxed.

Q rutted against him with a moan, and sunk his teeth into the nape of James' neck. He could feel himself leaking precum, the slickness of his erection against the agent's lower back. He sighed with a shudder, trying to calm himself from going too fast and scaring James away again.

Better to go back to licking his way down James' back, lapping at where he had left a damp spot on him. 

Awareness followed him down, and he became increasingly hard as it did. So much so that he had to shift his weight to get comfortable, nearly knocking Q off as he went. "Sorry..."

Q immediately stopped what he was doing.

"Are you ok?" He moved to make eye contact with James, make sure that he was doing ok. He touched James' cheek with his fingertips, a soft caress.

"Fine..." He smiled, a little awkward. "Just trying to stop certain... Ah... Appendages from going numb, that's all..."

"Ah ok," Q smile was warm. "Just checking like I told you I would. Roll on your side." He leaned against the chair to give James to roll over. His stomach tightened, full of butterflies, as he looked into the bright blue eyes.

Bond did so, shifting to lean up on one elbow and the shift was subtle. Almost undetectable as he slid out of that strange mindset and into something that was more comfortable. The fight wasn't with the Quartermaster. The fight was with himself, his own worst enemy.

Q kissed him, and wrapped his arms around his neck. A reward for the trust, and a treat. The agent was a talented kisser, and Q enjoyed James' hands running over his body. He hadn't yet had any of the anxiety that marked the few fumbling encounters he had managed since Silva, he felt safe. He was able to forget, for a few hours, the threat of the men looking for him, and the scars on his psyche.

James kissed and he devoured with it. He knew how to kiss, knew how to get someone's blood flowing. He kissed savagely, playing on the right side of violence, bruising with the force but never allowing it to be pushed on to the Quartermaster. His fingers moved, sliding down his arm... to his wrists. He pulled back and looked down, brushing the thumb over the subtle lumps and bumps that told him of deep tissue damage.

He had seen this kind of injury before... not as bad. "This must get very achey..." he commented, a gentle probe for more information

"Yes, well, most of the time I don't notice, until the missions finish," Q blushed at the attention. "My job is to get you home safe, but at night... its bad some days. Sometimes Eve rubs them when I work too many hours, because my fingers go numb. I have always had trouble but... Silva..."

He laid his head against James' chest, cocooned in the warm nearness. He steadied his breathing and tried to not tense up at the memories of the hours he had spent in cold metal handcuffs.

Slowly, careful not to trigger him, he raised Q's wrist to his lips and kissed it... as if kissing it better. Kissing away the hurt and the pain away and he slowly started to rub them, teasing out the aches in the muscles. "Stay with me, Gabriel... you’re safe..." he said softly.

"James," Gabriel sunk into his arms with a sigh, relaxing into the touch. The place he felt the safest in his life was in the arms of a man with a license to kill. "That feels so good. My wrists have been bothering me from the cold. Thank you." He tilted his head up to meet James' lips with a contented hum. 

James pecked him on the lips. "You should have said before," he said as he worked the muscles, feeling for the knots and working them free, turning his hand to massage one palm at a time.

Gabriel sunk into the kiss,overwhelmed by the protective care James was taking of him. 

"I try not to think about it. But you can check the roast later so I don't have to lift it. Ooh, that feel amazing," he groaned as James hit a pressure point that made his fingernails tingle.

"Of course," he said and lifted Q's hand to his lips and slowly... very slowly, lifted his hand and slid Q's finger into his mouth. He bit at the nail gently, and sucked on his fingers. 

Gabriel keened at the warm touch of James' tongue on his fingers, instantly hard, aching. The feeling went straight to his cock. 

"Please James, please," he pleaded, not sure what he was begging for.

"Please what?" he asked softly, his breath a seductive purr in his hand. He bit down on the fingernail and drew his tongue slowly up to the bend in Gabriel’s elbow, teasing all the sensitive nerves that people forgot during foreplay.

"Please, touch me?" Gabriel shivered against him, his skin getting goosebumps. "Please? It feels so good. It’s been a long time-"

James shifted and one hand wrapped around his cock. Just holding it for a moment, as he leant into his ear. "Q? I want you to tell me your filthiest fantasy that involves me..." he whispered as he very slowly began to stroke. 

"Fantasy?" Gabriel thrust into his fingers with a gasp. "You on your knees, naked, in front of the fire. When it’s dark, and you have the leather cuffs on. And I can see the fire reflected in your eyes. And you're begging me, begging me to rim you. And I tell you, soon. After I make love to you." He jerked into James’ fingers and came, and collapsed against the agent, boneless.

Bond chuckled softly and held Q against his chest lightly, not bothered about the sticky fluid that coated his fingers. "Is that what you’re looking for, a long term submissive?"

"I-I thought I did. Now I'm wondering if that's not all I want. I didn't think I would contemplate a lover again, but..." Gabriel shook his head. "Once we get back to London, I won't have time to go find a relationship anyway."

"I rarely bother with sex when I am in London," agreed Bond as he ran fingers through Q's hair gently and laid them both back in the nest of pillows and blankets. Bond didn't speak for a time but when he did, it came out as a bit of a blurt. 

"I'll do it," he said and seemed to realize that this made no sense. "I'll wear the cuffs, Q... Hell, I'll let you tie them if you want... Or whatever..."

"What?" He sat up with a start, stunned out of his post orgasmic haze. "You? Why would you?"


	11. Chapter 11

"Whoa..." He said softly. "Slow down... And because you want me to. You want to do that - your poker face is terrible, by the way. I'll try... For the duration that we are here..."

"Ok," Q closed his eyes and drifted on the sensation. He felt aroused but terrified. He'd just been offered his fantasy. But with a time limit. And he already felt himself falling.

That was the thing, they didn't know how long that they had. James leaned his head against Q's shoulder. Nervous but trusting him... But he was getting hungry. "When's dinner?"

"You said you would get out the roast," Q reminded. "Then come back here and let me finish you properly. We can strategize about how we are going to take down the rest of Silva's empire tomorrow when we go sailing. Let me have the rest of today, please? I know you are used to something casual. But this is very emotional for me. "

James rose and went to the kitchen, getting out the beef. It wasn't quite ready, and he set it back in for a while before wandering back.

Q smiled at him, and rose to meet him. He wrapped his arms around James' neck, and let himself convey everything he was afraid to tell James in the kiss. It was desperate, scared, but affectionate, no denying the ties binding them already.

Q took James' cock in his hand, a soft swipe of finger tips over the head. Then he bit into the pulse point on his neck.

He should have guessed that the man would enjoy pain.

James felt something in the kiss and although he responded, it was hesitant. Unsure. He had received kisses like that before and he never wanted that connection again. Sex was sex, and he was enjoying this new... Twist. He was incapable of more.

He went rigid at the touch, eyes wide and unsure... But it was the bite on his neck that undid him. He shuddered, groaning and for a moment it looked as if his knees would buckle.

"Tell me what you want, James." Q licked at the bite.

"You..." Groaned James. Whatever Q wanted... To please him. James shivered at his own thoughts.

There it was, that trust. The relaxation of James in his arms. He cupped the globes of James' bottom in his other hand, and slid a finger between his cheeks to tease at his opening.

James stiffened and relaxed again, pressing his face into his neck. Still... But nervous. Trusting. 

Q teased at his opening, distracting him with kisses. He rubbed against James, and the friction was delicious. There was a pleasant ache of desire that made him want to take, but he knew that slow would get him further.

He moaned, shuddering against Q. He didn't stop him, pressing his face as he drew ragged breaths. He was shivering which had nothing to do with heat.

"James," Q moaned. Every part of him was focused on the man in his arms. He penetrated James with one finger while fisting his cock. He found his prostate at the same time as he bit down on a nipple.

At the penetration, James went still. Too still, frozen like a deer in headlights rather than the predator that he was. The shift was dramatic. This was...

He came. Hard. The finger curled inside him, and the bite and James was coming in hot waves that shattered him completely leaving him feeling empty and somewhat hollow... and maybe a little used? He wasn't sure, but at some point he had sunk to the floor with a wide eyed, wild gaze.

Q caught him as he sagged, and sunk to the floor with James in his arms. 

"James, look at me," he tried to break James' daze. "James, you're safe. I'm here."

He tried to rouse the agent without panicking him further, all the while, his own heartbeat rabbited.

James blinked stupidly and with a frown, placed a hand on Q's chest, pushing him away firmly. He could not name the emotions that he was feeling, let alone explain them, but he felt completely _wrong_. He wanted to get out of here, away from Q... back to London or halfway around the world. 

"I'm fine..." 

"I will go serve dinner," Q sighed. Inwardly he hated himself for making James retreat, but there was no knowing what triggers were until you hit them.

James staggered away from Q, up to the bathroom and closed the door. The lock snapped shut and James sunk to the floor as he tried to get himself back together. He was an adult, this was a mistake... he could do this, couldn't he?

It took a good ten minutes to sort himself out and when he came down for dinner, he was dressed and the Walther was in the shoulder rig at his chest.

Q had dressed in cargo pants and a cardigan with a t shirt, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. He set the table, but avoided alcohol. He, at least, needed to be clear headed to deal with this. He saw James come in, dressed for battle, and his heart sunk.

The food smelt good but James wasn't interested. He sat and he pulled the dish toward him, silent and broody and still in shock. It was like an injury - he had experienced this several times after being shot but that didn't have the emotional sting to it that this felt. He swallowed down a third of the dinner before he gave up and moved to the kitchen to start the clean up.

"I'll be in the living room," Q brought his plate into the kitchen, trying to announce his presence and not scare James further. "And James... I'm sorry."

James grunted something, and the plate in his hands dropped into the water with a splash, sending suds up. "What the hell are you sorry for?" James asked bitterly.

"I wish I would have seen that you were uncomfortable, I would have stopped. I wasn't trying to force you into something you weren't ready to do."

The agent waved a dismissive hand.

"Forget it, Q, it never happened," he replied, words laced with ice. 

"That's not-that's what I was afraid of," Q's shoulders slumped and he left the kitchen. He pulled on his coat and went for a walk. It was too much to handle, right after telling Bond his fantasy. It felt like a punch in the gut, Silva's voice in the back of his head, whispering 'what did you think would happen? He would never want you.’

Bond needed to get out, needed to do something. Q was gone and Bond needed to work out the energy and the tension that he felt. He was angry and he was hurting, and he did not understand why. In the end, he ended up on the sofa. Somewhere music played, but he was asleep... twisting uncomfortably in his dreams.

Q walked for awhile, until the cold and damp made his hands ache. He headed back to the cottage, and found James asleep on the sofa. He retreated back to the bedroom and put on some opera, something to take him out of his head. Hopefully the attention needed to translate would turn off his brain.

Bond awoke later in a turmoil. His body ached and his mind was asleep, which was better than the extreme emotions that he had been feelings. He went upstairs slowly and into the bedroom that Gabriel wasn't in to get some sleep.

Gabriel heard Bond come upstairs, and go to the other bedroom. He sighed, he wouldn't be sleeping tonight. Time to make tea. He made two mugs, and brought one to Bond.  
"James?" He knocked on the door.

"Not now, Q," Bond called though as he went through his night time routine, feeling cold and lifeless. Numb. He had felt this before, this sinking black hole. He didn't like it.

"James, I can explain this," he leaned his head against the closed door, feeling helpless. He couldn't help if James wouldn't let him. "Walls, walls, walls," he muttered.

"There is nothing that needs to be explained. Go away, please. I'm tired," Bond grumbled as he slid into the bed.

Q opened the door, and was instantly grateful that the man did not have a gun in his hand.

"This isn't just you, your reaction," Q set the mug of tea on the nightstand. "It's called sub drop. Your adrenaline crashes, like after you have been hurt. That's why I've been gentle with you, trying to keep you from crashing. Drink the tea, and let me get you a sweater at least, if you don't want me to touch you."

Bond gave Q a deadpan look, dark and moody... Although he looked more like a teenager then anything else.  
"Q, I'm really not in the mood. Go away," James had crawled into bed, exhausted for no real reason.

"Why don't you listen, and you can decide if I'm right? Restless, anxious, achy? You feel like you are coming down with the flu, shakes, bit of a fever? Probably feels a bit like after you have been shot?"

"So?" He didn't touch the tea. Petulant. Extremely petulant. He was sulking like a teenager.

"So, I know that's not a good feeling. I don't like it, myself. And its my job to take care of you if it happens. Like when you took care of me after a nightmare. Its the same thing. I can help."

"Your help is not wanted, Q, nor required," the words were harsh, clipped... Lashing out to hurt him. He shifted, restless and shivered.

"Would it make it easier if I ordered you to accept my help?" Q tucked the blanket around him. The agent was shaking, vibrating with anxiety and fear.

James scowled and looked like he was going to strangle him, and he didn't answer because he knew that if Q ordered it in a position of authority... He would.

"James?" Q's voice was gentle. The agent continued to ignore him. No help for it then.

"JAMES. Take the tea and drink it. And put this sweater on." He took off his cardigan and handed it to him. 

Bond scowled but took the tea and began to sip it slowly, still sulking like a child. His hands were unsteady and he huffed at his own weakness. "I'm fine," he growled, clearly annoyed.

"Your hands are shaking," Q frowned. "You are far from fine. Budge over, you can sit on my lap. You need to be touched." He leaned against the headboard and gathered the reluctant agent into his lap. He covered them both with the duvet, and turned out the light.

"I'll break bones, I am heavy," Bond replied. He was acting like a child and he knew it, but trying to shake a hangover was worse. What was wrong with him? "I have been a lot worse..."

"You are not too heavy," Q sighed, pressing a kiss to his hair. He slipped his hands under James' shirt and rubbed his skin. The agent felt cold and sweaty to the touch. "What are you afraid will happen if I take care of you?"

The agent snarled, a dangerous sound.  
"Hands off, Q," his voice said he would do damage to him if he didn't get his hands off him, right now. "I don't need someone to take care of me. I'm not three.”

"You most certainly do need someone to take care of you," Q retorted. "And if you don't want me to treat you like you are three, stop behaving like it. I'm not here as your Quartermaster. I don't want to have to command you. I'm here as your lover. And I'm concerned. You know, this is hard on me as well. It's very hard for me to be this vulnerable, this open, knowing once we get back to London it ends."

Bond sighed and raked a hand through his hair and his walls melt just a little. He exhaled and relaxed back into Q a little. He didn't speak, but he was right. This was hard on Q too.  
"I'm sorry... "he said after a moment.

"I know this is hard. It's just... I told you all my fantasies, I put every shred of my dignity I had left on the line, I'm as raw as you are," Q exhaled with a shudder.

Bond huffed softly and sunk down into the bedding a little, eyes closing. "I'm sorry, Q..." he said softly and yawned. He turned and pressed his face into the material of Q's jumper, exhaling softly. It took a few moments before he managed to articulate how he felt. "I feel... dirty..."

"Dirty? Because you enjoyed losing control? Or because you enjoyed sex with a man?" Q sighed. "Or because I'm not Vesper?"

"You have no right to talk about her..." Bond snarled, suddenly angry. "And no, it's not the first time I've had sex with a man. Your ex was willing to give it a shot," it was a low blow but they still had not reached the heart of the matter. "I enjoyed it, yes... I never thought I would enjoy anal play or anything pain related, but yet I want more," the words were blurted free and Bond went red.


	12. Chapter 12

Q recoiled like he had been slapped.

"I... I can't James. I can't let you hurt me because you are scared. If you want to be angry, and scared, that's just fine. But you don't get to take it out on me. You have to make an effort too. I'm not here waiting for the other shoe to drop so I can abuse you."

James growled under his breath and squirmed in frustration... And sheer humiliation. Sheer humiliation as he tried to figure out the words to say what he wanted… what he needed. "Me, idiot. I want you to _hurt_ me because it feels good and I don't like that I like it."

"Why? Who do you think I'm going to tell?" Q sighed. Pulling bloody teeth, talking to this man.   
“All you have to do is ask. And it goes no further from here. And if you decide you are uncomfortable, we stop."

Bond was tempted, very tempted to punch him for being so dense.

"Because pain means death in my world, Q," he said. Something in his voice had shifted. It was soft... Haunted. "Because pain and letting go means that I've failed and someone else is dead because of me. M is the last in a long list of people who I could not save. It's terrifying to know that Le Chiffre was about to castrate me and if you wanted to hurt me, I would let you…” He was red, and he could barely meet Q’s eyes.

"Oh James," Q's eyes welled up with tears. "I don't want to hurt you. I want you to tell me what you want, and give it to you. Whatever that is. You aren't going to let anyone down, or die, by telling me you need something."

"I need... something..." He snorted. It sounded stupid, even to his own head. "I need something to remind me that I am still alive... That I have reason to live. I feel like I am drowning, Gabriel."

"I would happily take care of you without ever hurting you," Gabriel sighed. "I'm not a Dominant to hurt you, James. I'm here to do what you ask me to do. And hopefully know when that's not a good idea."

Someone needed to tell him when things were a bad idea.

James snorted but the words seemed to lighten some of the tension and he felt himself begin to relax. His stomach growled as he realized that he was hungry. 

"Do you want more tea? I am going to make toast," he said as he drew away and slipped out from under the covers. 

"Sure, I would love some," Q shook his head with a bemused expression. "You're a bloody roller coaster James. And you still have to ask for what you want, you berk."

With an expression of mock hurt on his face, Bond slid out the bed. Then it turned wicked, a slow, sensual smile.

"Ask for what I want?" He leant down slowly, and licking his lips before drawing Q into a slow kiss, drawing it out until his toes were curling on the carpet. "That's easy... I want to forget my own name while I am screaming yours," and with that, he turned to leave, heading for the kitchen.

Q moaned at the loss. He stumbled after James and caught him around the waist.  
"Don't make me take you over my knee," he growled playfully.

James smirked as he boiled the kettle. The kitchen was freezing under foot and he shivered, but it didn't stop him from rolling his hips back against him. 

"Don't make threats you can't keep, Q," he said, amused as he worked.

"Threats?" Q thrusted back against him. "Take it as a promise, if you like. But you will still have to use your words and ask for it. Not behave badly to trick me into it."

"Behave badly?" Bond threw his head back and laughed. It was a carefree sound and the sound startled him momentarily. "This is how I am all the time, Q... but I'll bite. I want you to take me over your knee," he said, turning to fold his arms. Game set.

"You are certain?" Q asked. "Ok then, strip from the waist down and go lie in front of the fire."

There was a moment of hesitation in James. Had he meant it? Was this what he wanted? He set his tea down and then went to the living room. He built up the fire and then did as he had been told. 

Q came in and set two mugs of tea on the hearth. He sat down with his back against the chair.  
"Lay face down on my lap," his voice had gone husky with arousal. "I'm going to assume you have no idea what you are asking for. After each strike, you will count and say thank you."

He felt himself go hard from the tone and he sucked in a slow deep breath, controlling himself. What had he asked for, his mind was reeling against, but his body was wanting. Badly. He nodded and lay where he was told, still and waiting. He trembled slightly from nerves... but he didn't safe word.

Q's hand rubbed against his skin. He let James build up the anxious nerves and anticipation for a few seconds before the flat of his palm landed on James' bottom with a sharp crack.

James yelped and jerked. His balls tensed, the sacks being drawn up. Bond shuddered and his mind blanked for a very long moment. He squirmed and after a moment, he let go. "One... Thank you, Sir" he said. It felt like there should be something else behind the thank you.

"When you are ready to submit fully, then you can call me Sir," Q landed another smack on his other butt cheek.

James shifted and clasped his hands behind his back, holding wrist to wrist. He was about to come up with a retort but Q cut it off. "Two. Thank you."

"I won't allow you to use that term until you trust me, its not fair to you," Q hit a series of three smacks in quick succession. "That implies that you want me to take care of you. And that you want me to own you. And you aren't there yet. You aren't even ready to kneel."

Bond was shuddering at the words, his breath hitching and his heart beat doubling. Where were they now? Three four five? Five... Yes... "Five. Thank you..." His eyes closed as he relaxed into Q and let the warmth spread.

"Do you know what that means, James?" Q landed a pair of blows on his thighs. "Do you want to be owned?"

He quivered, body betraying his arousal. The length of his cock bumping against Q's thigh, dripping precome. Hot and sensitive, he squirmed. "What does it mean?" He asked, quietly.

"It means you wear my collar," Q's voice was shaking. "It means that you stop fighting me. You let me take care of you. And it means that you come back to me after missions, no matter how bad of a place you are in."

James moaned, loudly, closing his eyes. He writhed, drawing a shaky breath. His ass was smarting, but deliciously so.

"And, you lost count. Shall I start over? Or are you ready to be held?"

Bond whined and squirmed in his touch and he realized with a degree of horror that he was blinking back tears.   
"Option two..." He whispered in a raw voice which wasn't as raw as he felt.

"Ok love," Q soothed. He kissed the tears from the corner of James' eyes. "We can sleep down here if you like?"

Words at some point had failed him and he grunted as he shifted, moving to sit back on his ass and wincing as he did.

"Tell me how you are doing?" Q's voice was gentle. He wrapped James in a blanket and spooned against him in front of the fire.

"Besides the sore ass?" James asked, shivering and turning to curl into him.

"Besides being a smart ass?" Q chuckled and held him close, feeling James' racing pulse. "Now tell me about your sailing ideas for tomorrow. I can pack us lunch."

James did and as he did, his voice drifted in and out until it stopped and he breathed deep. Easy slow breaths of sleep.

Q felt him relax and drift into sleep. James needed it so badly. There would be plenty of time to strategize and take on the world. But for now he wanted the agent to rest and recuperate.

He felt his eyes drift shut and buried his face into Bond's hair, letting sleep take him.

When James woke Q, nuzzling him awake, it was pre dawn. Watery light poured in through the windows, the promise of a wonderful day. "Wake up, Gabriel," James murmured through gentle nuzzles, and kisses. A good way to start the day, or so James thought. "Get up... we are going out..." he whispered.

"Mmm," Gabriel stretched lazily. "Good morning handsome. How fast do we have to go out?" He wrapped his arms around James' neck and leaned in for a kiss. "Do I have time to have you for breakfast?"

"No, we don't," he replied, dipping his head to kiss him quickly... Before swatting him on the back side. "Up!" He turned and stalked out, showing off his rather pink bottom as he went.

Q laughed. He stretched and found his glasses, and went to get dressed in the bedroom. He brought a satchel with his cardigan and a book. Then he went to the kitchen and made thermoses of tea and sandwiches.

James returned, dressed in outdoors clothes and arches an eyebrow with amusement. "You won't need those," he mused with a smirk as he was winding rope around his hand and arm. "I'm going to teach you to climb."

"Climb?" Q squeaked with an undignified noise. "You won't let me fall, right?"

"You haven't let me fall yet, have you?" He asked as they went into the front room, Bond taking both his hands to show him the safety equipment. 

"No, I haven't," Q met his look with a brilliant smile that lit up his face. "Oh! Knots! I know how to do those!" He blushed and sighed. "I feel ridiculous, I feel like a teenager on a date," he confessed.

Bond laughed softly under his breath and turned to Q, and beckoned him closer. He was holding a harness and held it out, showing Q how to step into it, where things tightened. "Perhaps later you can show me your skills with knots," purred Bond.

"I-are you sure?" I don't want you to be uncomfortable, just because its something I enjoy," Q let James tighten the harness and leaned into his touch. "Mmm, feels good," He rubbed his mess of curls sleepily against Bond's stubble.

Bond nipped his ear lobe lightly and pulled him in with a tug at the ring. "I'm about to take you up a cliff face to show you the sun rise. I'm showing you my world, you’re showing me yours."

"Ok," Q smiled. "Sounds lovely. Thank you, James. I promise not to tell that you are romancing me." He leaned into Bond's touch with a contented sigh. 

Was he romancing Q? He wasn't sure if he would call it that but he smiled at him and nodded to the door.   
"Get going before I decide to have you for breakfast! Out the back to the hill behind the house. Should be an easy climb."

Q hadn't had someone pay attention to him like this ever. He felt like a cross between a teenage girl and a woman in a romance novel, being wooed. And James, judging by his thoughtful expression, hadn't realized he was doing it. Q felt a warm fluttering in his belly, despite the morning chill. Having the agent's charm turned on him, with none of the falsity he was used to hearing on mission comms, was a powerful feeling.

James lead him out and not long up the road. The wind was warm and the sun would be bright. He carried the rope and at the bottom, he talked Q through the ropes and how they would climb side by side and use hooks in the rocks for a safety line. "Ready?"

"Yes," Q gave a wry smile. He took a deep breath and reached for the first holds.

James smirked and arched an eyebrow before swatting Q's backside, just because it was in reach to give it a good stinger. Laughing loudly, he used Gabriel's distraction to go up the wall, making every movement look perfect, effortless and graceful.

Gabriel tried to mimic James' movements, but after a few solid thumps, settled for using the same hand holds. It took him awhile longer, but taking James’ hand at the top of the wall was exhilarating.

James had been sitting at the top for a while when a pale hand came over the edge and he snatched it, hauling Q up and over the edge with him, chuckling at the sweat drenched face.

The view before them was like something out of a Tolkien novel. The sun, a wispy yellow orb was peeking over the mountains, glimmering over the crystal waters of Lake Windermere. They couldn't see it from their little cottage, but from here, the water looked divine and inviting.

 

"Ah, this is lovely, thank you James," Q marveled. " And the lake, oh! This is definitely a view I didn't know I was missing." He curled up against James' side.

James stayed silent for a long time, feeling content as his arm rested around him. After a time, he exhaled softly. 

"Okay. You can feed me now..."

"I can?" Q smiled up at him. He unpacked sandwiches made from last night's roast, and held one for James to bite. He followed it up with a kiss and an offer of tea.

In reality, James should have carried the bag up, but he had let Q and made sure that he and the food was safe. He bit into the sandwich and munched contentedly, turning his head to watch the golden orb rise into the sky. Q was smiling with a mouth full of sandwich, sneaking shy smiles at James between watching the sun rise. James pretended not to notice. 

"I'm really glad you talked me into trying this, its lovely up here," he sighed. "Z would have loved this. Thank you for protecting me."

"What would he say, Gabriel... If he knew that you were still feeling guilty for something you could not have prevented?" James asked, plucking the sandwich from Q's hand to feed himself.

His eyes welled up with tears.  
"He was all I had, the only one that really understood me. I just wish he could be there for the good as well as the bad. He was brilliant, just never got to the good."

"Which means," James said as he set down Q's cup of tea and took his face in his hands, "that you have to do it for him. You have to work twice as hard, and be brilliant for him. Okay?"


	13. Chapter 13

"I try," Q swallowed. "Just want him to know, that all love isn't a trap. He never had anyone love him, except me, for who he was. He would have loved you. He always believed I would find someone to read that book to."

"You and that bloody book," he dipped his head to press a sweet kiss to soft lips. "You will, Q... You will and they will be everything you want them to be," James said and he started to pack up. "Come on. Down is more scary than up. You can absail down and I'll climb down and collect the pegs. Okay?"

"Me and that bloody book are closer than any relationship I have had," Q admitted. "You won't be below me to catch me? What if I fall?"

"I will be up here, taking your weight. If I let you fall, you can spank me again," James replied with a smirk. "Do what I say and you will be fine. Go to the edge... Back to it, facing me," he said gently as he set the ropes up. The spanking comment had gotten a chuckle.

Q took a deep breath, and tried to stop his hands from shaking. He kept his eyes on James as he stepped off the edge, and wished falling in love was as easily solvable as rock climbing.

James adjusted his footing, spreading his stance as Gabriel leant back over the edge. "Q... Keep your eyes on mine... That's it..." He said gently. "Now slowly start to walk down... I'll guide you... That's it... Baby steps..."

Q kept his eyes on James as long as possible, and took small steps so his sweaty hands wouldn't slip on the rope. 'He has me, he has me,' he kept repeating in his head. He already knew how hopelessly lost his heart was.

James guided him down slowly, talking to him until one last step... And Q was down on the floor. "See! Told you I wouldn't let you fall!" He whooped and shouted down instructions for how to detach himself.

Q stood on shaky legs and kept his eyes on James. He was glad to be back on solid ground, but it was a new feeling to have someone that he could trust to do frightening things with him. He wasn't sure if it was nerves, or something else, fluttering in his stomach.

It took James a lot longer to come down as he had to climb back down, tugging out the hooks as he went. He dropped them down for Gabriel to gather as he climbed. At one point he slipped, one hook gave way and he dropped a good ten feet before the line caught. In the end though, he made it safely.

Gabriel was pale as a sheet, his hand over his mouth when James hit the ground with a solid thump. Watching him sliding down the rope had scared him badly. If he got hurt himself it was one thing, but he couldn't watch someone else get hurt.

"Gabriel?" James approached slowly, seeing the distress. "Are you okay?" He asked softly, reaching for his hand. His palm was scratched but the skin wasn't broken.

"You almost fell," his bottom lip trembled. He gripped James' arms tightly.

"I'm okay, Q..." He whispered as he grasped his hands gently and kissed the fingertips. "It was nothing serious, I had a line. I was safe..."

"Don't get hurt because of me, please," he pleaded. "I couldn't bear it. I need you to stay safe."

"And leave you no one to look after?" He was coming to the conclusion that Q needed someone to look after. To spoil, and to love. "How can I make you feel better?"

"Can we go home.. I mean, back to the cottage?" Q was subdued, and looked exhausted. "I could use some more tea. And I'd like to hold you, if that's okay?"

"Of course," James lead him down, back to their little cosy nest and sat him by the fire. "Stay here... I'll do tea..." He was shaking like a leaf.

"Thank you," Q gave him a grateful look. He curled up on the pillow and waited for James, tucked into his nest of soft duvet. His eyes fell on the book sticking out of his bag, fallen open to Z's note: 

_Brother, may someone who loves you as much as I do someday hear you read these to them, Z._

James came in with tea and slipped out again. When he came back again, he was naked. Tension showed in his shoulders and neck, but he looked calm. He hadn't put the cuffs on yet.  
Bond sank into one knee... And settled onto the other at Q's feet. His gaze was low, but he held the wrist cuffs up to him.

"James?" Q's voice trembled and his eyes spilled tears. "What do you want?"

"You to own me... Sir..." James said without hesitation. "Whatever is left of me." The agent voice quivered and he shook. This was one of the hardest things that he had ever done in his life and it was something that he needed… He needed the security, to have someone who was watching out for him… And Q needed to look after and protect someone else.

Q couldn't see through the tears falling. He buckled the cuffs around James' wrists by feel, and clutched James against him. All he could feel was every defense he had left crumble as he held on to James as if he would disappear. He let the sobs take him as he kissed James' face.

"No, you're perfect."

James pulled him down for a long moment, just holding him. Holding and rocking him to calm him down and relax him.

"Thank you," he let James hold him. He reached for James' hand and pressed the cuffs to his cheek. "I promise, I will take care of you."

"Just let me know what you want, then it's yours... Sir?" He asked from where he still knelt.

"Whatever you are ready to give," he kissed James' fingers. "What are you ready for?" He took James' neck in his hands and held him, a steadying secure touch to ground them both.

James didn't seem to understand the question for a moment. This was new, so new and the slight tremble in his shoulders showed the tension he felt. "I don't know. I don't really know much about this, I don't know where the lines are. I trust you, though and I am ready for you to start pushing."

"Ok, fair enough," Q smiled. He kept his eyes locked on Bond's and rubbed his hands over his shoulders. He let himself drink in the sight of the tanned skin, and the agent bravely offering himself. "Will you let me make love to you?"

James paused for a moment. "If... If that's what you want..." He hasn't been expecting that.

His smile was brilliant. He reached for Bond and kissed him, throwing everything he had into it. His heart was already lost, and this was the only way he knew to let James know that. He held on to Bond's wrists, running his fingers back and forth over the leather that encompassed his skin, marveling over his good fortune. He let himself fall into the emotions, a heady combination of arousal and lust and caring. 

James groaned into the kiss and although it started hesitantly, he responded with desperation. Wanting, needing, craving more... It never felt like enough. He tried to move to touch Gabriel's cheek... But he held the cuffs to still his hands.

"Go get me the lube," Q instructed. "Bring it to me."

"Yes sir," James breathed, softly but clear. They would take some getting used to. He returned and went to his knees, offering it up to Q as he had the wrist cuffs.

"Now take some and stretch me out, take your time," he smiled at James, and fondly ruffled his hair.

With a fire in his gaze, a gentle smoldering heat, Bond smeared some of the gel onto his fingers. He paused and then tugged Q to the edge of the chair, dragging his hips forwards. Submissive or not, he didn't beat around the bush. A fingertip circled the tight ring of muscle before slowly pushing in.

"Oh, that's so good," Q leaned into his arms. "There's something you need to know about submission, James. It doesn't have to do with pain. It is giving more than you are comfortable giving, because the person receiving is going to catch you. It has nothing to do with who is the dominant partner in sex. And it doesn't have anything to do with pain."

James hummed, curling his finger and brushing that sweet spot gently, his eyes locked in Q's. The curiosity was there though.

Q leaned in for a kiss. 

"Now I want you to do one thing for me, James. _Take me_."

James recoiled as if slapped, a confused frown on his face. "What?" He said, voice suddenly knife edge sharp as he was jerked from the soft, relaxed mental state he had achieved.

"You said to let you know what I want. I want you to take me. I want you to have me and believe that you deserve it."

James frowned. Was he missing something here. "Why?" He asked slowly.

"Because that's what I want from you. I want you to know I don't see you as broken. I don't see you as a set of scars and completed missions. I see you as stronger because of what you have been through, and because I know you never back down from a challenge."

James narrowed his eyes and his face said it all. He didn't understand, he felt like he was missing something. Was this a test?

_'He is playing with you,'_ a nasty little voice in his head taunted. M would be rolling in her grave. Tugging Q closer, he kissed him and there was desperation in the motion, pulling Q to straddle him.

"Easy, hey-look at me," Q could feel him panicking. "Do you need to stop?"

James huffed and rested his forehead against Q's. "You’re confusing as hell, do you know that?' He said wryly, lips curling into an uneasy smirk.

"I asked you for the simplest thing I could want from you," Q kept his face calm, even though he was scared that James was going to run again. "Do you know what it takes for me to ask you for this, after Silva? I asked you to take me, take care of me, because no one ever has. And I believe you can. If I can trust you with my safety, I can trust you to touch me."

James softened at the words, the doubts melting. The nasty voices were still there but they always were. He kissed him, softly at first but steadily deepened it into something hot and scorching.

Q let himself be enveloped in the kiss, desperate moans escaping him as he clutched at James. James was running his hands up and down Q's back, giving him goosebumps. He let himself feel every sensation, from the calloused hands caressing him, to James' erection pressed against him. It was exhilarating, and he wanted it all.

James's hands moved, slowly, down his spine, up... Then dragged his nails down slowly, firmly. He kissed down Q's neck, nibbling and biting a gentle path. He broke away to slick his cock with lubricant, hissing at the cold.

"Please, James," Q begged. The lips on his throat were a warm counterpoint to the fire of James' nails on his spine. He spread his legs, moaning, to watch James rub a slick hand over his own cock.

He shifted onto his knees, claiming his mouth as he did. Pulling Gabriel to the edge of the chair, so he was kneeling between his thighs, and positioned himself at Q's entrance. "Wrap your legs around me," the agent breathed between breathless, fluttering kisses.

He did as James asked, wrapping his arms around the muscular thighs. He couldn't focus much beyond the kisses, and the attention James was lavishing on him.

Bond groaned and eased himself into the young man, panting as he did. His eyes closed, and he groaned softly. "Eyes on me... Still with me?"

"Yes," Q’s voice shook a little. He tried to remember to breathe. But there was James, his body looking like a sculpture, his eyes wrenched shut. Q's harsh breaths were loud in his own ears as he resisted the urge to rut against him.

James rolled his hips, a skilled motion as his slick fingers wrapped around his erection. With careful grip, he began to move in time with his thrusts.

Q threw his head back and let the sensations take him. He was sure he was yelling, but he couldn't hear it over the roar in his ears of his own pounding blood. The pleasure was exquisite, James knew exactly where to touch. Q did his best to allow himself to feel, and heal.

The motion between them was feverish. Bond held Q closed and tried, he really tried to be gentle with him but that may have gotten a bit lost. Q would be sore later.. He pulled his head back to him and kissed, almost harshly. He really didn't want to go back to reality any time soon. The pitch between them shifted, until they were chasing the pleasure. 

"Come for me," Bond whispered.

Q didn't need any other encouragement. His orgasm caught him, and he clutched at Bond. It was exquisite, rolling waves of pleasure that didn't immediately stop. A few more weak spurts of cum, and his skin got sensitive under Bond’s touch. But he still wanted the man to claim him.  
"I need you to cum inside me, James, please."

Bond nodded. The expression on Q's face was so sweet, so... He couldn't even think the word. He leant forwards and kissed it away, pushing for his pleasure until he came, eyes closed, lips parted in a silent howl.

 

Q pressed a few kisses to James' forehead and held him as close as he could. Q's heart was still pounding, and he was afraid of what he felt.  
"Thank you, that was amazing," he whispered.

Bond groaned into his grip, pressing his head against Q's shoulder. He shuddered with aftershocks, eyes closing and whimpered an acknowledgement.

"James," Q sighed. "Let's rest for awhile. Unless there's anything we need to do?"

James shook his head and when his legs responded, pulled away. "Nothing that I can think of," and he dragged Q off the chair and into his arms.

"Ah, good then," Q settled into his chest, against his heartbeat. He kept one hand on James' neck to keep him close. He pressed a kiss to his throat and relaxed into sleep almost immediately.

James shifted and wrapped his arms around him. The hand on his neck was possessive.  
Owned. Did he want that? He frowned and rubbed his neck as if he could feel a noose closing.

Q rapidly settled into a dream, murmuring under his breath. He held on to James and didn't let go.

"Easy..." Bond hummed, playing with his hair as he relaxed. "Shhh... You’re okay..."

"Love you too... Uh huh... Mmm not going to let you go." Q settled into the crook of his neck and started snoring.

Bond froze.


	14. Chapter 14

He froze, almost animal still. Wide eyed. Terrified. After a few moments, he had to make himself breathe, make himself relax. It was just a dream... He was probably talking about his brother?  
No no no. Everyone who ever cared for him died.

"Love you James, of course I will," Q nodded in his sleep.

James jerked at the words. His heart was going ten to the dozen and he sat up slowly, laying Q back down carefully. He stalked out, shedding the damn cuffs as he went. He slipped the door closed and then upstairs to clean up.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_

He left the house.

Q wasn't sure how long he slept, but the fire had died down. James wasn't in sight, so he made tea and went to sit in the garden, wrapped in a blanket. There was enough sun to warm him, and he brought his laptop to play opera arias while he read.

It was well over an hour before James returned, running down the road. Fitness was important to an agent and between the exercise and the music blaring in his ears, he managed to shift the anger. Q was in the garden. He opened the gate and slipped inside, panting and sweating. Muscles shook with fatigue.

Q smiled. "Would you like some food?" He turned down the music and laid aside the copy of Shakespeare Sonnets he had picked up in the village. "I should probably start dinner anyway.”

Bond shook his head. The tension he had managed to run off came back with force, feeling like a punch in the gut. "I'm not hungry," he growled as he slipped past Q and into the house once again.

Q wasn't sure what happened. He slipped back in the house to start a curry, and decided on making bread as well. He would give him until dinner, and then find the agent and talk to him.

He washed, and cursed MI6 for having this place as a safe house. He wanted a shower and to get drunk and forget that he had ever allowed Q to cuff him.

Bond shuddered in self disgust. _Idiot!_

Q wasn't sure what was going through the agent's head, but the noises coming from upstairs sounded angry. He sighed. If only James would say what was wrong. When he fell asleep everything had been fine.

Bond scrubbed in the cold water because his pride would not allow him to go seek out the hot and as he looked in the mirror, he could almost see his walls shooting up, solidifying into fortresses. Hard. Cold. Dangerous.

Bond was naked and looked rather annoyed when he opened the door to find Gabriel outside. He scowled.

"What?"

"I brought you warm water, for your bath?" Q wasn't sure why James was being so hostile all of a sudden. "Did I do something to make you angry?" He was worried about what he had done.

"I'm fine. I'm finished anyway," he turned from the young man to look in the mirror... That was now cracked. It had been punched, that much was obvious, although how it had not shattered was anyone's guess. James combed his wet hair.

"James..." Q faltered. "I'm sorry, for making you uncomfortable. I wish you would tell me why you are angry at me. I'm not sure what I did. I will leave you dinner on the stove, I am going to go down to the village to the bookstore. There's bread in the oven."

Bond scowled and he glared. Once again he was naked, bare and vulnerable in front of this man who wanted to disarm him and started to. " Don't bother, I'm going for a drink. Are you aware that you talk in your sleep?" It was then, and only then he realised that he was in fact... Bleeding. Although it was not serious, he had a nasty cut on the knuckle.

"Talk in my sleep?" Q frowned. "What did you do? Let me clean that and bandage it!"

He ignored the command and turned to run it under the cold tap. "You talk in your sleep, Quartermaster. I thought you had better control of yourself," _Better control of your feeling and emotions._

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that I do. I so rarely sleep, and never when someone else is around. I hope I didn't offend you," Q took his hand, and pulled free a sliver of glass. "There are bandages under the sink," he said quietly. "Be careful walking to the village, it looks like it might storm again."

James turned and walked to the door, having jerked his hand out of Q's grip. He went to the door, swiping his jacket as he went... Only to pause in the doorway. " You said you loved me... I hope its not true..."

"I- what?" Q went white as a sheet. "I'm sorry. I don't ever say that out loud."

"Well..." Bond paused, "you did," he snapped and turned, stalking out of the cottage and down into the village. The heavens opened and the rain poured.

It was fitting, really.

Q went downstairs and sat in front of the fire. He wrapped up in the blanket and sat staring at the dead fire. He couldn't believe that he had betrayed his feelings to James like that. He had no intention of saying it out loud to the agent. And now the damage was done.

James walked into down into town, rain soaking him, making the woolen coat heavy and stuck to the skin. He got to the pub and a stool by the fire... And there he sat, slowly destroying his liver through alcohol.

Q decided that if he left James alone, they would never work this out. So he pulled on his coat and boots and went out into the night to brave the weather. His first place to search was the pub. And there was James, soaked to the skin, in front of the fire.

He tried to make as much noise as possible as he walked up behind James, but the agent didn't seem to hear.

"James. We have to resolve this."

"Nothing to resolve," he downed his glass with a frown and it was whipped away and replaced by another.

_"James!,"_ Q resorted to his stern voice. "We're going to walk home and talk about this, _now!."_ He handed the bartender some cash and and waited for James to follow him.

James rose, his face twisted into an ugly snarl. The bartender looked at Q and nodded and James finished the glass. "I don't need a babysitter," but he stood and trailed after, cursing himself and everyone else.

Q left the pub and went out into the rain. The weather was icy, and he shivered.

"I'm not here to babysit you, James," he sighed. "But I'm also not going to allow you to shut down like this. Do you have any idea what you kneeling meant? Do you know what that did to me?" He could feel warm tears streaming down his cheeks along with the cold rain. "I offered you the option for just the sex, but you had to kneel."

"I am sorry," the words were a rough, a sound that spoke of anger and emotions that were being carefully controlled, "but I thought that was what you wanted?"

"Why would you think that? You asked about my darkest fantasy James, not what I wanted from you. All I wanted from you was what you were ready to give. And I'm sorry you heard that. I really am. I never meant to say it to you. I know you want me to tell you I didn't mean it. But I said I wouldn't lie to you again."

James shook his head.

"Because you gave me a chance to let go... I wanted to give you something back!"

"So you decided to break my heart as a thank you? You decided the best way to be appreciative was to show a little bit of affection to the socially awkward Quartermaster? Pretend that you wanted to submit, so you could put another notch on your bedpost? All I wanted, was to give you a little bit of peace, because you were hurting, and I know what that's like. I wanted what you were ready to give, not what you thought I wanted. Fuck you, James Bond. I'm not one of your girls that you get to say all the right things, and take me to bed, and sneak out before I wake up. Since you are guarding me with your life, I thought you would be at least respectful of my heart as well."

For a dark dark moment it looked as if James would swing for the man... But he softened. Then any softness vanished as hardened into something cold. Dangerous.

"Do you really think I would just kneel for anyone? For Christ sake, Gabriel, I've never done that in my life. Ever. But love? Love makes you blind, weak and dead."

"I learned that lesson already, thanks," Gabriel turned to walk back to the cottage. "I'm not here to be placated James. I wasn't ready to say that, let alone you hear it."

"Gabriel, wait," he said suddenly, and closed the gap between them, his hand reaching out for his hand. "I... I'm sorry. I behaved appallingly. I honestly did not think that you were that… Involved..."

"I don't want to be! Everyone I loved is dead. How do you think I feel about that? Sir... its a title of devotion, and respect James. I knew you didn't know what it signified to me. Different people use it in different ways. But then you said it, and I thought for just a little while, I could pretend that you knew what you were promising. Fucking traitorous heart," he scoffed.

"Don't blame your heart..." he smiled, a weak, lopsided and slightly sad smile. "Blame your smart mouth for talking when the rest of you is switched off..." he pushed his hand forward, lacing their fingers together. "And you feel as shit as I do... what was the curry you made?"

"Um, there were some vegetables in the fridge, and lamb... James, please don't just be nice to me because you feel sorry for me. It hurts too much."

"Oh shut up, Q. I don't have sex outside of work unless I really like someone. You know that," Bond was, in fact, having several affairs when he was in London. One man, two women... all three married. A meal out, drinks and then a night at a five star hotel, in which they woke to find him gone again... but all of it was purely physical. This had been different.

"You really like a lot of people James, remember your tracking device," Q sighed. "You don't want to be my submissive. You did it because you were trying to be nice. Okay, that's fine. Just... don't. Don't offer what you don't understand, or want to give."

James paused as they went up to the cottage. "You’re wrong, Q... I did want to give it... more then I realized... Goodnight..." he slipped past Q, up the stairs... as soft as a shadow, and the door closed to the second bedroom.

Q took the food and put it in the refrigerator untasted. He retrieved his book from his satchel and went to change into dry clothes. He sat on the floor against the door of James room. His stomach ached as he listened to him snoring.

In the early hours of the morning, James stumbled out to head to the bathroom and fell over Q... literally. He sprawled over Q, landing on his elbows to avoid breaking a wrist and rolling. It was quick thinking and training that stopped him getting to damaged... but it had hurt. He rolled onto his back.

"Gabriel... did I kick you?"

Q shook his head, but blood dripped from his nose.  
"I should get some tissue, " he yawned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get in your way."

"What are you doing out here?" he said as he sat up... reaching up, he slapped on the light. "Come here..." he said, reaching out to pinch the bridge of his nose lightly.

"I..." Q clutched the book. "I couldn't sleep." A drop of blood fell on the cover. He pinched his nose harder and sighed. "I'm sorry, you can go back to bed. I can take care of this."

"I am taking you to bed," he said, scooping Q up bridal style, and setting him on the edge of the bed. He vanished and then came back with the loo roll, unreeling a load and holding it up to his nose, pinching it... gently.

Q felt like a small child being bundled off to bed after a nightmare. He let James hold his head and relaxed against him. He felt safe, despite his roiling emotions. And wanted to be held.

"Have you slept yet?" James scolded as he wrapped an arm around Gabriel, and then a blanket too. He pinched the nose hard. "You look like a disaster," he said softly, frowning.

"I... I suppose I slept for a bit, finally," he pulled the blanket around himself with a shiver. His hair was still damp from the rain, and the cold in the hallway. "You should get some rest, I will be fine."

"Oh... shut up, Q..." he said, and pulled the duvet down. "In," he snapped, and slid in beside him. "Q... you’re freezing, bloody hell," his hand had gone to the small of his back. "Okay. Top off, get in... you need to warm up..."

"I'm fine, I can just go sit by the fire and warm up," he protested weakly, already curling into James' touch. His eyes started to close.. The hand on the small of his back grounded him, and yet let him drift off to sleep peacefully.

James pulled him back into his arms and wrapped his arms around him. "Go to sleep..." he said softly. "I won't let you fall..." he pushed his leg through his a little, and closed his eyes... it didn't take long until James was falling asleep, the submissive holding the dominant.

Q awoke some time later, wrapped up in James' body. The agent had him in his arms, and Q reveled in the warm touch. He wiggled out of bed to use the restroom, and then returned to watch James sleep. He opened his book and read softly, not wanting to wake him up.

_'Discende uno splendore,_   
_Che 1 desir tira a quelle ;_   
_E qui si chiama amore'._

  
_(From loftiest stars shoots down a radiance all their own,_   
_Drawing the soul above ;_   
_And such we say is Love.)_

  
James slept deeply, spooning the younger boy. He stayed there until morning until he started to squirm, a troubled expression on his face. He twisted and let out a desperate cry, pain in his face.


	15. Chapter 15

"Hey, James, wake up," Q shook him gently, frowning at the strange grey colour to James’s skin. "Its okay, I need you to open your eyes and look at me. Let me see your stitches?"

James groaned and opened his eyes, pain in his eyes. "Oww..." he muttered, and shifted to show him the stitches, shoving down the blankets.

"Where does it hurt?" Q reached for the lamp to see if the stitches were infected. He touched his hand to James' forehead to see if he had a fever. He had a fever... a high one. He watched as Bond closed his eyes and rolled over, shifting, trying to get comfortable. "I'll be okay... just need some sleep..." the agent muttered. The wound was weepy, red and swollen.

"We need to get you some antibiotics, will there be some in the emergency kit?" James didn't answer, so Q went to go search the bathroom. He brought back antibiotics, aspirin, and some wash to clean the wound. He put on a fresh bandage with tape, and gave James the pills with some water. After he fell asleep, Q continued reading: 

_l’amor mi prende e la beltà mi lega;_  
la pietà, la mercè con dolci sguardi  
ferma speranz’ al cor par che ne doni. 

(Love takes me captive and beauty binds me fast,  
while pity and kindness, with your sweet glances,  
seem to give some firm hope to my heart,)

Bond twisted in his sleep, restless and clearly uncomfortable. Plagued by dreams, he talked to the many enemies that still had residence in his subconscious and begged for forgiveness from the many ghosts. 

By mid afternoon he woke again. "Any water?" he croaked softly.

"Yes, and do you think you could have some food? There is fresh bread," Q handed him more antibiotics and aspirin. He filled a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. There was a plate of sliced bread from the loaf he had made the previous day, and he handed some to James. He felt his forehead. It was sweaty, but cooler. Q wiped it with a cool towel.

"Next time you aren't allowed for making fun of me for talking in my sleep, you do the same," he teased gently.

James shifted and shoved a pillow behind his head with weak smile. It was a mild infection, nothing serious, just enough to make him feel lousy. "Oh yeah? What do I say?"

"A lot of things... Nothing to worry about," Q gave him a sad smile. "You've lost a lot of people you love. I know how it is."

"Oh God, I was telling you my reports, wasn’t I?" He scoffed, voice tired but teasing. "And I am supposed to be a spy!"

"No, you were calling for your parents, and M. And Alec. You should know, James, you don't call for her. You yell at her, but, you don't call for her. Vesper, I mean."

Bond frowned a little at these words and shifted, very much unsure on how to reply to that. He decided against that. 

"How's the nose?" He asked with a sheepish smile. It looked sore. "Perhaps you shouldn't sit outside people’s bedrooms?"

"Yeah... I," Q looked down. "I didn't want to be alone. It was too loud in my head. How are you feeling?"

"Then you should have come in," he said as if this was an obvious answer. "I'm fine, Q. Are you? I upset you horribly."

"I- I will be fine," he smiled wearily. "Just get emotional sometimes. Nothing I can't handle. I just needed a bit to settle down. Now, how are you feeling?"

"Like you’re the one who needs looking after, Q... Not me..." He said soft and patted the bed. "In."

"Ok, I think I'm too tired to argue with you," he yawned. "Haven't had enough tea and I'm worthless. But make sure you tell me if you need anything?" He went to get under the covers, but sat on his book by accident. "Ouch," he fished it out sheepishly. "Get some rest so the medicine can work, yeah?" He laid down facing James, and watched him sleepily.

"You’re brilliant, Q," Bond said patiently. "Don't knock yourself down."

"Brilliant?" Q looked at him oddly. "Since when are you my biggest fan? Did I hit more than my nose?"

"Since Skyfall..." Bond replied, his head resting on his hand and watching him. "Since you worked with me there..."

"I feel like I missed something. You've been alternating between running away from me, and furious at me, and now you like my work. Excuse me for saying, but... It's confusing. I know what we have done, its all new to you. But it's like every time we have a conversation, you're a different person. And it's hard on me, to keep up."

James went still, an almost unearthly sight. He controlled his breathing. Slow in... Slow out. "Q, you’re the closest thing I have to a friend. Most of mine are dead or wishing they were. I was attracted to you since we met... But... I wouldn't act. I can't give you what you want. I never intended to lead you on, Gabriel. Ever. But then you came in and said you saw something in me that's worth it... And Christ, I wanted to cling to it with both hands…I don't know if any of this was a good idea, but you've always had my respect. I vouched for you... I don't do that..."

"A friend? A lover? A partner to come home to? What is it that you think I want?" Q was bewildered. "What is it that you think I want that is so difficult? There is plenty that is worthwhile in you. I just don't understand why you think I want anything more than you."

"You said you love me, Gabriel. What do you expect me to get from that?" He said, and he sounded tired.

"That I was asleep? And hurting? Or how about you were the first person that could touch me without me getting sick? I was asleep James, dammit. What do you want me to say about it? How many times do I have to apologize for loving you?" Q had tears streaming down his cheeks again. Christ, did he always have to end up in tears around the man? He grabbed his book and went to leave.

Bond caught his wrist... Then let him go. " I'm sorry..." He said and he sounded it. "Tomorrow I'll call 6... Get a transfer..."

"What? Transfer where? Who else is going to protect me?" Q started to panic at the words. James was leaving? No! He couldn’t!

"Hey..." He said and caught Q's hand. "Easy... Do you still want me around? After everything?"

"Why wouldn't I? You are more anxious being around me. I can be an adult, Bond. You're the best agent, and they are coming for me next. But I understand if it's too much for you. I made it awkward by coming on to you. But I really would like to live."

Bond grinned wolfishly. "I will stay then... I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable..." He squirmed, all the blood in his body was flooding south. "I think I'm going to have a shower... A cold one..."

"A cold shower? What on earth?" Q protested. "It's already cold-OH!" He blushed.

"I'm also running a bloody fever..." He got out of the bed, boxer shorts straining and trotted towards the bathroom, shivering as he went.

Q giggled despite himself. The last few days had been an emotional roller coaster, and despite the stress, he had been enjoyed the time with Bond. He followed him into the bathroom in time to see Bond's boxers hit the floor.

The man had a great arse.

"Do you want a hand with that?"

"You offering?" Bond shot back with a slight smile as he stepped in. His bottom still had a slight pink tinge.

"Yes, if you wanted," Q said. "But only if you're interested."

Bond shivered and peeked out of the side of the shower. His face said it all, a complete come hither look

Q shivered, caught in the look.  
"What are we doing, so I know and we don't end up at each other's throats again?"

Bond glanced up at Q and smiled a little.   
"Making a mess of everything?" He asked with a shrug.

"So you can hate me again tomorrow?" He squealed as he got into the cold shower. "Just, its hard on me, whether I want to feel it or not, it’s there." He laid his head against Bond's back, and leaned against him.

Bond was perfectly still, stroking Gabriel's hand ever so lightly, before pushing his fingers in and lacing them together. He didn't understand why people loved him... He didn't understand the warring emotions, the bubbling sensations, the happiness.

"James..." He sighed against his skin. The shower couldn't hide his erection, especially not when the agent was pressed back against him. He rutted against him shamelessly for a moment, and bit him gently on the shoulder.

The agent made a soft noise and arched back against him, pressing back his rear against the rutting cock.

"James, I want to try something, and I need you to trust me," Q was so hard it hurt. "Go wait for me downstairs and start a fire.".

It was probably a good idea that Q gave the command because James was unsure whether he was coming or going at that point, his mind detached from the rest of him. He showered quickly and, feeling cooler, he stepped out and snatched the towel.

Q went to the bedroom and got the cuffs, the metal two way connector that joined them, and a blindfold. He took a deep breath, what was there left to lose?

James had the fire roaring, spilling heat into the room. Sitting down, he scrubbed his hair with the towel, drying off. He was nervous, shivering slightly.

Q walked up and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to blindfold you, and then I am going to put the cuffs on you. Do you remember your safeword?"

James nodded slowly, gazing into the flames. He shifted subtlety, moving onto his knees. Nervous, terrified almost... But open. Open and willing. He licked his lips. "Yes, Sir..." He whispered.

Q moaned, a needy desperate sound. He stood behind James and tied on the blindfold. Then he buckled each cuff to a wrist, and linked them together behind his back. He pressed kisses to Bond's skin, and licked at his nape.

James closed his eyes as the blindfold came down. Q's touches lingered and he groaned, feeling it cover his eyes. He opened them into more darkness. His breaths came faster, harsher... Especially when he felt the cuffs were linked together behind his back. He tugged, testing them... Panic began to rise, flushed with the fight or flight... But then Q was there, hands on him... Lips on him. Soft. Warm. Reassuring.

Bond groaned as he relaxed, leaning into the touch.

Q came around him and kissed him. He ran his hands down Bond's chest and palmed his erection.   
"You're doing so well," he mouthed at Bond's neck, and bit his skin.

Bond sighed into the kisses, eyes closing. "Thank you, S-Sir..." He breathed, head falling back as he was touched, crying out desperate.

Q was glad Bond couldn't see the tears pouring down his face.   
"So good for me James, you're doing perfect."  
He bit at Bond's nipple and kissed it, soothing him.  
"How would you like me to touch you?'

His hand flexed in the bonds, and he groaned. His back arched back and he licked his lips. "Everywhere..." He breathed. "Make me forget everything but you."

"Sit down," Q’s voice was husky. "I want you so badly." He watched Bond maneuver to a sitting position with his arms behind him. "I'm going to loosen your arms so you can lie back."  
He undid the joiner to the cuffs and laid Bond back gently. He crawled on top of him and took possession of his mouth, pinning his hands with his own.

Bond arched into him, a shuddering breathless moan moving through him like wild fire, setting every nerve alight. He lay back slowly on top the carpet, and raked his fingers through it as he clawed.

"James, I've got to have you," Q slid against him, a press of flesh to flesh that rubbed deliciously. He ground against him, and captured his mouth. He nipped at his lips, and tasted him with his tongue, making sure he paid proper attention to both his upper and bottom lip. Then he kissed every inch of his face, gentle brushes of lips against his eyelids, nose, cheeks, and throat.

In reality, Bond could have flipped him over and taken charge but his mind was allowing himself to slow down, and just feel. He squirmed, writhing and making little desperate noises, head tilting as fire trailed down his throat making him gasp.

Q went back to his lips, their leaking precum settling on his belly as lube. He kissed him with every ounce of passion he could allow to pour into the kiss, a gentle lover's touch of his fingers in Bond's hair. 

Bond whined and squirmed, feeling the gentle pressure on his wrists. He couldn't see... Nothing at all…

Then he was back on that boat before the bag was ripped off his head. He was naked, tied and unable to move. His bottom sunk through the hole in the chair, his balls and cock heavy. Le Chiffre. The rope. The pain and oh, god, the arousal. 

Every muscle in Bond’s body tensed and he uttered a word, gasping and then saying it louder. 

"S-Skyfall!"


	16. Chapter 16

Q tore off the blindfold as fast as he could, and then worked off the cuffs. He scrambled back so he wasn't pinning Bond, all the while murmuring to him to calm him. "I'm here, James, you are safe. There, I won't let anything happen to you. Open your eyes and look at me baby, come on, please?"

James eyes were screwed up shut and the moment Q was away. He curled in on himself, shaking violently. He couldn't come back. His mind raced through a thousand memories and between two vivid and painful flashbacks, he uttered a desperate gasp. "Talk... Just... Talk..."

"So I was thinking, tomorrow, we can take that boat ride. Get some sunshine, the forecast on the computer said that it’s going to clear in the afternoon," Q rubbed his hands across Bond's and laced their fingers together. "I read you some poetry while you were asleep, maybe you can read to me as well? I got some poetry books that are in English in the village."

He rubbed his thumb back and forth across Bond's trembling fingers.  
"Are there any other languages that you speak that I can download poetry? I can computer code in several coding languages, and sort of read Latin, but I'm afraid it’s just Italian for me, and some Spanish. I learned from playing football with the neighbors when Z and I lived with my grandma."

Bond didn't reply. He couldn't, not yet but in time, slowly... He relaxed and began to come around. His eyes opened and he started to breathe more normally. "I speak fluent French, German, Spanish, Russian, Japanese... A little Mandarin..." His voice was vacant. 

"Ah... maybe you can read to me in French, I think I saw some books at the bookstore in French. Ha laid down next to Bond and put his arm round his waist. "How did you learn Russian, did Alec teach you?"

James jerked as Q touched him again and sighed. His eyes started to clear as he turned into Q and pressed his face into his shoulder. He shook. "Um... In the cold war I started to learn it... Alec helped..."

Q pulled the blanket up around Bond, and nuzzled his hair. The agent was trembling badly, and it broke Q's heart. 

"How did you learn the other languages? I learned Latin in school. Can say a lot of prayers, and read the old writings. I wish it was still useful."

"Work... I taught myself them... It depends on the job..." He mumbled against Q's neck. "I find I can get buy in most places..." He said and finally fell still, breathing slowly.

Q rubbed his nose against Bond's.   
"Well you will just have to keep me around and teach me all of them."  
He relaxed his clutching hold on Bond, but kept touching him.

"I'm okay, Gabriel..." Bond said after a few moments when a comfortable silence had descended. "That flashback was a nasty one, though..."

"I know the feeling," Q stroked his hair. "Hard to know what's going to bother you until it does. And then, it can be overwhelming. Would you like to come sit on the couch with me? We shouldn't hurt those ribs any more."

He moved, feeling pretty numb from the waist down and a little shell shocked... but he wasn't resisting. It wasn't even about submission, it was about needing someone to hold him through the aftershocks and make sure that he was still alive. It was about finding the reason to keep _breathing_ and not letting the darkness swallow him whole.

Q laid down on the couch and pulled Bond on top of him gently. He reached for the blanket and tucked it around them both, more for comfort than warmth. He tried to slow his breathing, and let Bond absorb the calm as well. The emotional toll of the last few days had tired them both.

Bond rested. Awake but relaxed as he thought through what to tell Q. Something that he had never told anyone. He swallowed.

"Le Chiffre... You know what happened. I was naked..." He licked his lips and raked a hand through his hair. "When his men cut my clothes off..." He swallowed then bit out a bitter laugh. "I thought I was over this." 

Q kept running his hands over Bond's skin. He nudged him with his forehead, and breathed in the smell of him.

"Does it bother you because of the pain and the memories? Or because you had a natural reaction and got turned on?" He asked, trying to figure out what was bothering Bond, beyond what the files said.

"Both," he replied, without any kind of hesitation. He was open... Honestly explaining himself to someone who wouldn't judge. He was trusting.  
"That was a flashback though... Don't happen often..." 

"How many have you held me through, James, and how many nightmares? It sounds like you feel safe enough for you to finally start dealing with it. I'm here to listen when you are ready."

He shrugged aimlessly and looked away.

"What do I say? It's..." He snorted in self disgust. "It's so screwed up."

"That your body reacted to adrenaline and someone touching you?" Q asked.  
"It's ok to be human sometimes, you know. I would think after all the times seducing someone because it was your job, your body is rather starved for affection."

He cradled Bond's head in his fingers and massaged his tense neck.  
Bond’s first instinct was to deny it. Starved for affection? He wished... But his reactions told a different story. He pushed back into the hand, mewling pathetically. Starved for affection… Yes, yes he was. 

"Shh love, I have you," Q kissed his temple, feeling his pulse race. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

Bond shrugged. He had said a lot... Too much? Perhaps. "I'm okay," he said eventually after a long pause.

"Can I disagree?" Q asked softly. "It seems like you haven't been okay for a very long time. And I'm not here for you to pretend. I said I would take care of you, and I will."

Again Bond shrugged. He was floundering and understandably so. "What do you want me to say?" He asked desperately. Deep down, a part of him, a broken damaged child was crying and screaming because Mother and Father... They were never coming home.

"Whatever is hurting... I've certainly unloaded on you this week. Why don't you start at the beginning? Tell me what your file doesn't know."

Bond shrugged. "I..." He shook his head. "I honestly don't know what to tell you, Gabriel..." He said after a pause. "I really don't..."

"What happened to your family? It's been six years since Vesper died, what are you avoiding?"

"They died, Q. Families do. Vesper..." He shrugged. "She is dead..." Bond shook his head. "I don't know what you're trying to get me to say here..."

"Just wondering why you gave up on having a future after MI6," Q wondered. "Seems like you don't even entertain the idea anymore. What made you give up?" He paused and tried to work up the courage to go on. "Would you ever try again?"

"Because you can't teach an old dog new tricks," Bond said slowly, trying to keep his words gentle. "I've been doing this too long... After Moneypenny shot me off that bridge, I tried to stay away... But this is my life. This is... It's who I am. I will die in the field, and probably never be found... But that's alright."

"And that's all you want? Then why did you kneel? Do you think you will kneel in front of me once, and then just go off and die alone? Is that all you expect of me?"

James rolled his eyes. "Fuck, I thought we had dealt with this?" He snapped, rubbing his eyes. "Come on, Q. What do you expect?"

"Why do you keep kneeling, James? I told you what that means to me if you don't say it's just about sex. And so far you haven't said that. You have danced around it every possible way, and yet you keep ending up on your knees... in front of me... calling me Sir. So tell me, just how did we deal with this?"

James shrugged. He very rarely did casual sex. It wasn't what he was about. He used sex as a weapon to manipulate and charm people. This with Q... It was far too much like Vesper. It was far too easy to kneel and let someone else love him. Yet it was the hardest thing in the world. He shook his head, petulant and stubborn. Far too stubborn for his own good.

"James..." Q sighed. He was trying not to make the agent run, but wanted to get through to him at the same time. He wasn't sure if Bond wanted to be ordered to tell him. "OK, so you don't know what you want, or won't tell me. I'm trying to understand. What do you NOT want?"

This was a disaster waiting to happen. Bond could feel it, could feel his walls come up weather he wanted them too or not. He held up a hand. "Right now, all I want is a cup of coffee and something to eat."

"JAMES," Q used a firm voice. "Let's go to the kitchen, and then we are going to talk."

James didn't want to talk. He was sitting here, naked... Exposed. He hated the emotions - why did everyone insist on knowing his thoughts? 

"I'm through with talking - we both want different things. You want more than just sex, but I can't give it. If I was anyone else, _anything_ else, I would think about trying. I like you, okay? But I'm a fucking MI6 agent! I kill kill people and I am good at it! I am not exactly what dreams are made of, Q… not to mention that someone could use you to manipulate me."

"Enemies?" Q's look was incredulous. "I'm on a list, goddammit James! That's why we are here, because someone has my name on a list. So this is about you protecting me from yourself? Or you protecting your heart, because Vesper double crossed you?"

"Why does it matter what I feel, Q? It changes nothing," with that he rose and went into the kitchen to track down aspirin and coffee.

“It matters because it's not just hurting you," Q sighed. He pulled the blanket over himself, and curled up into the couch.

Which was what James was good at. Very good at, he thought bitterly as he made coffee for himself and tea for the young man who cared too much.

Q tried not to let the tears fall. He tried to focus on anything, anything else at all. The list... James... Z... M... one was worse than the next. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, and reached for the book of Spanish poetry he had bought. Something to distract him. Although Spanish poetry written to the writer's gay lover... it was like he couldn't escape.

James came in.   
Still naked.  
Still semi-hard.   
He was insatiable.   
He was furious about it. 

With a huff, he set the cup down by Q and turned away. His side tugged with every heartbeat as he climbed the stairs. The push pull was killing them both.

Q stared at the mug of tea. He wanted to push. And the abandoned boy in him wanted to beg. He wanted James to not be just one more person he had failed. He threw off the blanket and stormed up the stairs, and knocked on Bond's door.

"It's open," the agent called. He was sprawled on his bed, dressed now. Seeing Gabriel - still naked Gabriel - he set the book down and arched an eyebrow. Waiting.

"No! You don't get to decide for me, that you are going to protect me from everything, including you!" Q pulled at his hair nervously. "You don't get to decide that you might hurt me, or we might grow apart, or one of us might die. You don't get to make that decision without me! Stop deciding for me, like I'm a child... even if I did come up here with a runny nose, and dammit... I wasn't going to cry!" 

Q couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Bond blinked... And then blinked again. Then... He was laughing. Laughing with Q, at how stupid this really was. Bond slid off the bed and beside him, sitting on the floor. He winced as he sat.

"Okay. New approach. What do you want exactly? All of it. Inside the bedroom and out," because Bond couldn't name what he wanted... But maybe he could find similarities.

"I want... I want to take care of you. I want to make you dinner and be there when you get home from a mission," Q sat and leaned against him. "I want a partner, and a lover. And in the bedroom, I want you waiting for me to make love to you, and it doesn't matter who is on top, or who is on the bottom. And it doesn't matter who has nightmares, because neither of us is leaving. And we aren't trying to push each other away."

Bond sucked a deep breath in... And exhaled slowly. He nodded slowly. He had asked. "Okay..." He said softly. "Okay..." His arm went around Q. "You know I can't be... I have sex with people for work..."

"Did I say anything about that?" Q asked softly. "I'm in your ear James, I know what you do. I run your missions. Just come home to me... in as many pieces and as bruised and broken as you need to."

James leant into him and gave up fighting. It wasn't submission, just a simple acceptance. He nodded.

Q wrapped his arms around him and just leaned into his chest to breathe him in.  
"Thank you, for not running away. Letting me get that off my chest. I will leave it up to you."

James licked his lips and went very quiet. After about five minutes however... He nodded. He could give the man a hundred reasons why it was a bad idea... But instead he said "I will try."

"Ok, yeah," Q smiled. "We can work with that. Just quit running, yeah? I spend most of my time in the lab, I can't keep up."

Bond snorted and leant over, pressing his mouth to Q's.

"Yes Sir."

It seemed the right thing to say.

Q crushed his mouth to Bond's with a moan.

"No more running, and no more pushing me away." He climbed into the agent's lap and straddled him.

Bond looked up at him, leaning back, supporting his weight in his hands. He was still unsure about all of this... But he was trying to relax into it.

Q leaned into him for the kiss with a tickle, trying to keep it lighthearted. All the seriousness had scared James needlessly, and their lives were grim enough. This was a haven from the world of MI6 and its endless lists, life or death situations, and carrying a license to kill.  
"So, tell me about this fantastic boat navigating of yours."

"Not much to tell... Me and you in a boat... Explore the shore. There's all sorts of islands that you can't reach unless you can sail," he said between kisses.

"Mmmm, lunch? Blanket and lube?" Q smiled. "We can spend the night out on the boat and see the stars. I will bring my book, and you can read to me. Or you can... distract me."

"You're distracting me already. I was looking forward to being yours for the afternoon," he mused. He was in the right mindset and had been... Willing. Willing to see where this went after the sex was over. But instead, he had a flashback.

"Oh, you are mine for the afternoon, and the night... and maybe the morning?" Q teased with a grind against Bond's hips. "We can go out on a boat tomorrow. We don't have a schedule. Mallory hasn't even emailed me yet. I'm all yours until you're bored."

Bond shivered under him, looking up with a heated gaze. "So if I am yours... What ever do you plan to do with me?" He asked with a smirk.


	17. Chapter 17

"Give that smart mouth of yours something to do, first," Q tapped his fingers on Bond's lips. "That mouth seems to get you into trouble more than anything else. Any ideas? What are you comfortable doing?"

Bond snorted and arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Darling, I'm comfortable with most sexual activities," he replied dryly. 

"But what do you _like_ to do with your mouth, Mister Bond?" Q whispered in his ear and sucked at his ear lobe. "I'm sure there's a great many things you are capable of, but what do you enjoy?"

Bond arched too him, feeling like blood was flowing through him a lot faster then it usually did. He groaned, and pressed, licking his lips. Gabriel was naked... why the hell was he dressed? He chose his words carefully. "I..." He paused. When was the last time that he had done anything for the simple fact that he enjoyed it?

Q laid light kisses on his neck, down to his collar bone. Bond's skin was warm, and the Q seemed determined to lick him like a kitten. Whether it was the soft tongue or the warm lips, Q was sure his defenses were penetrable.

Bond shuddered and his head fell back, resting on the edge of the bed. His eyes closed and he exhaled a breathy sigh. "You're a tease..." He accused.

"A tease?" Q worked his way up Bond's throat with his tongue. "That would mean I don't intend to make you come, and that's very much not the case. Now get up on the bed, and get undressed. And think of a use for that bloody mouth of yours."

Bond snorted. He knew exactly where his mouth was going soon but the agent wasn't going to give into him that easily. "Shouldn't _you_ be the one to think up and tell me what to do with it?" He chided playfully, pulling his shirt off as he did.

"I was giving you an option, but you don't seem to do well with those," Q leaned over to snog him again, and unfastened Bond's trousers. "Now quit stalling and put that mouth of yours on my cock. I think I've waited long enough."

Bond groaned and kicked off his clothes, shuddering. He was awful with options, simply terrible. Without hesitation, he went to his knees in front of Q... And then paused for a moment before gripping and licking slightly.

"What?" Q's voice was soft."Tell me."

James's response was just as soft, perhaps a little hesitant... And maybe a little embarrassed.  
"I've never done this before..."

"Are you ok with trying? If you are, just do what you like." Q cupped Bond's cheek in his palm. "There's no wrong way, as long as you don't bite, James."

Bond chuckled darkly at those words and smirked. "I won't bite," he promised because he knew how much that hurt. This would be an experiment. He gripped Q 's cock gently and licked the head slowly.

"No pressure, nothing you don't want to do," Q sighed as Bond's warm mouth engulfed him. He tried to keep from thrusting his hips, but the soft lips and tongue were just enough to make him want to beg for more.

It was experimental, the way Bond explored. He had a natural rhythm to him in the way that he moved, using the flat of his tongue to stroke as he sucked. He took one of the young man's hands and guided it into his hair.

Q could feel the soft hair beneath his fingers, the spiky ends contrasting with Bond's gentle swipes of his tongue. He pressed against him a bit, he wanted the warmth of Bond's skin against his body, as much touching as possible. The movements of his tongue were enough to make him want to rub against him, give himself just a bit more of friction.

Bond groaned. This was one of the strangest and erotic things that he had done in his life, and he had done an awful lot. He knew the theory... He relaxed his throat and went deep... Which wasn't that deep but the man was trying

Q keened as Bond relaxed his throat. The groan vibrated across his skin and gave him goosebumps. It was different than any other man he had been with in bed. There were none of the showy tricks, just the comfort of being safe and his lover giving everything they had.

James was giving all he had and he hoped it was good enough. Blue eyes were dark with lust as he looked up at Q. He was hard, painfully so, learning to suck his _Master’s_ cock. The word seemed strange but it was true, he needed someone to look after him.

Q met his eyes. He couldn't decide what had changed in Bond's mind, but he had thrown away his inhibitions and was trying to please Q with everything he had. And he looked like he was enjoying it, the shadows finally gone from his eyes.  
"If you don't want me to come, you need to stop. That's too good."

The smirk was devious and he made a very pleased self satisfied sound. The cat who caught the canary. Bond didn't stop and slowly, carefully did it again.

"James... oh!" Q tried to hold out, but the warm suction and Bond's groans were too much. He tried not to choke him as he came, but then it was too intense. He was gripping Bond's hair, shouting and thrashing. It wouldn't end, the intensity, and he could feel his limbs get pleasantly heavy and warm.

Bond gagged, but from inexperience more than anything else. Something warm, thick and slightly salty hit the back of his throat. He swallowed. He swallowed until there was no more and pulled away with a gasp.

"Get... get up here," Q patted the pillow next to him. He blinked at James sleepily and pulled him in for a kiss. "Mmm, you were amazing." He wasn't used to someone who would swallow, or kiss afterwards. "Thank you, that was brilliant." 

James was so hard that he hurt and it wasn't often that he would beg... But he was close. He groaned into the kiss, a needy sound. Bond needed him, badly.

"Tell me what you want," Q whispered in his ear. He slid a hand between them and took James in his hand.

Bond whined, an almost feminine noise. "To come, Sir," he breathed, eyes closing as Q touched him.

Q wished he had another orgasm in him, because that was the hottest thing he had ever heard.  
He slid down Bond's body, and sucked at the V of his stomach. There were scars, and he took time to kiss each one. He bit at his hip bones, and sucked a dark bruise on the left one. He kept Bond's erection in his hand, and ran his tongue up the vein on the back. He swirled his tongue around the head and hollowed out his cheeks to suck as hard as he could.

It didn't take long and James would later be embarrassed because he begged. He was harder than he thought he had ever been and he pleaded. "Oh! Oh god! Please Sir!" He moaned, clawing at the sheets like a mad man until he went very still and roared, positively roared as he came and came hard.

Q swallowed, trying to keep Bond's hips from thrusting too hard and choking him. He caught his hands and held them. He licked him and slid up to hold him.

He sagged back into the bed, gasping and whining as he rode through the aftershocks until he stilled, quivering.

Q kissed him and grabbed a blanket to cover them both.  
"You're wonderful," he wrapped James in his arms. He rubbed his hands softly over Bond's skin, making sure there was enough touch for him to stay grounded. "Can I get you anything?"

Bond shook his head and rolled over, curling into Q. He was as malleable as a kitten rather than the lion he was used to being.

"Shhh James, rest," Q kissed his sweaty hair. "I will be right here." He took Bond's hand and wove their fingers together, his thumb brushing across the scarred knuckles.

James made a small sound and was soon snoozing gently. Only for twenty minutes or so, but he slept.

Q watched James as his eyes slowly opened.

"Hey," he leaned in to kiss him, a quick brush of soft lips. He smiled, the world a bit fuzzy without his glasses. 

"Hey," James replied in a sleepy voice, returning the kiss. "You’re going to ruin me..."

"Ruin you?" Q chuckled. "Just because you had good sex and took a nap? Well if that's all it takes, Mister Bond..." He pinned him beneath him and bent down for another kiss. " "We will have to make sure that it doesn't go in your official file. Wouldn't want all those targets of yours to figure it out."

Bond snorted but held him against him. "Good point, Q. Most of them are quite keen on the keeping me tied up..." He trailed off, realising that he should probably keep quiet about work.

"I can understand that," Q grinned down at him. "I would love to keep you tied up and waiting for me. It's a good look on you. But I think I prefer you naked and wanting me to come back." He bent down to lick at Bond's nipple.

Bond sighed as the nipple became hard under his touch, and his eyes closed. "In other words, you want me waiting for you, ready for you..." He mused. "You want to push my buttons, see how far I will let you take it..." He hummed.

"No," Q frowned. "It would be nice to not come home to an empty house. And know you aren't off somewhere getting hurt where I can't get you help. I only want you waiting like that if you want to."

"You've never failed us yet, Q. You're well liked by all of the double ohs... And I was teasing, Q," he hummed. "I understand more than I did..." 

"I just don't want you to think I want you waiting naked in bed every second you are off duty," Q sighed. "I really do want to take care of you. And I worry. Some days I can't bring everyone home and I have to choose. And those are the worst."

Bond nodded. If anyone understood, he did. It was hard having to make the hard call, having to leave a man behind. "I know you don't want that, Q. You want a companion, more than anything."

"Yes," Q sighed in relief and tucked his head under Bond's chin. "Yes, so badly. I get exhausted with it just being me against the world." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of Bond's skin and sleep.

Bond ran a hand slowly up and down Q's spine. "Go to sleep... You look exhausted..." Murmured the agent.

"Will you sleep too?" He asked sleepily. He was worn out emotionally, but no more than Bond was. The constant high level of emotions and danger had taken its toll on both of them. "Read to me?"

James made a sound and after a moment, pulled away to rummage amongst the belongings to find one of the books. Bringing it back, he settled again with the man and started to read to him.

Q snuggled against him to listen, the smooth rumble of Bond's voice soothing him. He dozed off while James was reading, and awoke to his voice still explaining the book.  
"That's lovely, James. What does it mean?"

"Nothing particularly interesting," Bond replied wryly and translated the text, such as it was, from a martial arts instruction book. "Look! It comes with pictures and all! Not quite as sophisticated as Michelangelo..."

"I wish I was that coordinated, I'm so clumsy," Q admitted wryly. "All I can do is test weapons." He leaned in for another kiss. "Do you need food or anything?"

James's voice dropped, a soft sound. "I only need one thing - you to cuff me again... If that's okay?"

"Of course," Q looked around. "Let me go downstairs and get them, yeah? Or do you want to go downstairs?"

James kissed his throat, and flicked his tongue over the Adam's apple. "Let's go downstairs... I'll cook tonight..." He hummed.

"Ok," Q leaned into the touched and purred. "What are you going to make?"

"Italian okay with you?" He had picked up the basics when in town, and even James Bond could not get pasta wrong.

"Sure, you can feed me on the couch," Q wrapped up in a sheet and tumbled out of bed.

Bond didn't bother with the sheet although he did slide some boxers on and he trampled downstairs and into the kitchen.

Q followed behind, and started water for tea. He went behind James and wrapped his arms around his waist.  
"Anything you don't know how to do?" he teased. "I think I am going to cuff you and feed you myself. Would you like help with the sauce?"

"That could be hot," James said as he stole the water to start pasta boiling.

"Cream sauce? Wine sauce? Handcuffs and a blindfold?" Q reached for a bottle of white wine and started chopping mushrooms.

"Whatever you feel is appropriate... But white wine sauce sounds fine... Are you safe to use knives in the nude, sir?" He asked cheekily as he started to chop chicken.

Q smiled.  
"My sheet doesn't count?"  
He chopped garlic, and onion, and zested a lemon. He sauteed them in butter and stirred in lemon juice, red pepper, and white wine.  
"Want to taste?" He offered Bond a spoon.

James leaned in and licked the sauce from the spoon, his eyes never leaving Q's as he did. It was a heated, intense look, saying more about oral fixations than should be allowed in a kitchen. . "Not bad, Gabriel... More salt..."

"I haven't put the capers in yet, patience," he reached for the jar in the cupboard. "This is the only time I use butter. I hope you like it." He handed Bond a spoon of capers to try, the pickled green bits bright on the spoon.

Bond frowned and took it, tasting them before nodding. They added a twist. He nodded to the sheet. "Isn't that a fire hazard though?"

"I can take it off," he laughed. "But you will have to keep me warm." He turned down the stove and left the sauce to simmer while he poured tea. Then he shed the sheet and curled up in a kitchen chair with a wink.


	18. Chapter 18

Q had a nice laugh, it rang very pleasantly. Feeling himself smile, James finished up what he was doing and knelt at his side.

Q ran his fingers through Bond's hair.  
"You look beautiful there, kneeling. Like you belong there. But get off the cold stone floor, it will make your knees ache. That's why I put so many blankets and pillows in front of the fire."

Bond snorted lightly. The cold stone floor wasn't that cold. "Fineeee," he said, drawing out the word, like a petulant child as he stood up.

"Silva used to make me kneel for days, my knees can't stand it," Q shivered and Bond instantly felt guilty for being a child. "But no reason for you to be stroppy, it can't feel good. Make us two plates and bring them to the couch.”

Q went to make sure the fire would last a few hours.

Bond wasn't being stroppy, or at least he did not think so. If anything, he thought he was being playful. He rose and went to the pasta and dished up two large portions before carrying them through.

"You do look lovely on your knees," Q took the bowls and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'm sorry, I just worry." He took Bond's wrists, buckled on the cuffs, and tied on the blindfold, keeping his touch soft and reassuring as he went. He could practically hear James’s heart begin to race.

"Far too much," Bond replied as he once again gave his vision and his trust to the younger man. His fingers reached out, brushing Gabriel's, craving that contact.

"It's what I do, keep you safe," Q entwined their fingers and kissed them. "Come sit here, so I can feed you." He guided Bond down on the sofa next to him, and let him get comfortable.

Bond allowed himself to be guided, his breath hitching as he sat down. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold to make it easier.

"Open up, James," Q started with a small spoon of sauce, to let him adjust to the enhancement of his other senses. He followed it up with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and a soft swipe of his tongue.

James took it, and groaned. Flavour exploded in his mouth in a way that he had never experienced before. He licked his lips and opened them again for another mouthful.

Q would a bit of pasta around the fork and fed it to Bond's waiting mouth. He licked a drip of butter off of his chest and offered him a sip of wine.

"You're enjoying this," the agent accused mildly, tugging at the cuffed links behind his back. He could break free without much effort, but he would rather not owe Q new cuffs.

"You aren't?" Q fed him more pasta, and rubbed a soothing hand over his collarbone. He bent and bit his nipple.

Bond groaned and arched into the touch, making a shuddering noise. "I am... I am..." He breathed as his body melted against the sofa.

"Then let yourself," Q fed him more pasta, and another sip of wine. "I haven't had a wine this good in a long time. At least they compensated for the no hot water in some way. Good Sauvignon Blanc and capers. Soft duvets and bed linens. This is the most I have relaxed ever."

" The wine... It's alright. I've had better and I'm more of a red man... If there's no scotch to be had anywhere..."

"Well you shouldn't have drank all your Scotch in one shot," Q teased. "And no mixing hard alcohol and restraints anyway." He fed Bond more pasta. "Do we need to get anything from the village tomorrow before we leave?"

Bond pouted but but off the pasta. "Why no alcohol and restraints?"He sounded curious, willing and open to understanding.

"Because I need your consent,” Q fed him a piece of chicken. “And I don't accept drunk consent. Its irresponsible of me. You are new to this, and I don't know your triggers. I don't think you know all of them yet either. I'm here to take care of you, and I need you knowing what is going on."

Bond smiled. Gabriel's worry about him... It was rather sweet actually. "I haven't been drunk enough to not know what's going on for a very long time... But I get you."

"You have to be mentally present for me to tie you up," Q smiled. "You can drink, but then no bondage. Especially shibari. That would take a few minutes to cut off if you panic. I'm hoping that this will help you to relax without alcohol quite as often."

"Shibari?" He questioned as he took another mouthful.

"Shibari is Japanese rope bondage," Q explained. "It can include suspension as well. That will have to wait for the toys in my closet. But I did bring some rope."

Bond hesitated and it was clear, despite the fact that he was blindfolded, that he was thinking this through. After a while, and several large gulps of wine, he managed to find his voice. "Toys in your closet?"

"I have a suspension rack, and enough rope to make full body harnesses at home," Q waited for him to freak out. "And some really nice leather toys. But you will have to see those when we get back. All I have here is enough rope for simple body harnesses. Lets me feel safe enough to sleep when I have nightmares."

Bond didn't respond for a moment but sat back on his heals, breathing deep. Controlled.  
"Okay..." He wasn't freaking out. Not yet. Toys, that was so much. The cuffs he was almost okay with and the blindfold did things to him that he hasn't imagined.

Q ran a hand through Bond's hair and kissed his cheek.

"Nothing you aren't ready for, remember? Only when you ask for it," he soothed. He nuzzled Bond's neck and held him.

Bond nodded and leant into his touch, eyes closing behind the blind fold. "I know. I trust you..."

"Thank you, James," Q put down the plate and straddled him on the couch. The fabric cover was soft, and showed off the agent's tan. He bent and took Bond's face in his hands. He started off with a soft brush of the lips, a touch of his tongue.

Muscles shook and relaxed back into the chair. James was hard painfully so. "I want you to keep pushing me...' He said slowly. "I liked the spanking - the endorphins were incredible..." He sucked in a deep shaky breath. "I want you to break me down, Gabriel."

"I'm not here to break you, James. I'm here to let you heal," Q licked a path down the line of his pulse. "Lift your hips."

"That's half the problem I think," James said in a very musing tone as he lifted his hips. "I don't know how to be anything but..."

"Anything but broken?" Q slid off Bond's boxers. "Neither do I. I don't think I ever have been whole. But maybe our broken pieces fit together, and we can help each other heal." He poured some lube on his hand and warmed it up. He slicked up Bond's cock and knelt so he could take it inside him.

Bond moaned at the sudden sensation of tightness, of being squeezed... Of being right. With the blindfold, it was intense and he went rigid to stop himself thrusting.

Q scratched his nails down Bond's back and moved just a little. He leaned in and kissed Bond, a possessive kiss full of hunger, and passion.

Bond responded, pushing himself into Q. He whined, arching into him, kissing back desperately

Q was enjoying the sight and feel of James beneath him. James was a sight to behold, sweat shining on his muscled chest and arms. His lips were red from the kissing, and his head was back. Q licked at his Adam's apple, and the sweat from the hollow of his throat. He growled possessively in Bond's ear and took the joiner off of the handcuffs to lead Bond's hand to his cock.

"No getting yourself killed and not coming home. You are mine, do you understand me? Mine!"

Bond groaned as he felt his hand come free and he wrapped it around Q's cock. He pumped in rhythm to his moments and cried out inarticulate words as he moved with him. Still blind, bound by so much more than just leather. 

"Will you come for me? That's what I want," Q panted, their foreheads pressed together. He rocked into Bond's fist, precum dripping on his fingers.

Bond moaned and arched too the touch. He was coming and coming fast... But he couldn't quite get there... "Yes... Please..." He whimpered.

"COME FOR ME," Q commanded. He bit at Bond's neck, knowing it turned him on. Bond's touch was sheer pleasure on his aching cock, and the agent was grinding against his prostate. He wanted them to climax together.

Bond came and came hard at the command, that chase for pleasure destroying all coherent thought and his body responded to the command. 

Q reveled in the sight of James letting go. His head thrown back, in the firelight he looked stunning. It was enough to push Q with him, and he came with a moan.

James shook as he came down from that incredible high, his body shaking desperately as he curled into Q. Whimpers came from his shaking body.

Q slid off of him, and held his face in both hands to kiss him.  
"Lay on your stomach in front of the fire for me, love."

"Yes Sir..." His voice was soft, gentle... Compliant. His eyes closed behind the blindfold, it was instinct that helped him move and sink to his knees in front of the fire before laying forward, hands by his side's.

Q reached for the flogger, and ran the soft suede over Bond's back. He followed it's path with his tongue, lapping at the sweat in the small of his back. He loved that spot on him, the perfect juncture where he smelled like pure sex and need.

Bond stiffened at the new sensations, bouncing wildly between hot and cold, but in a good way. He was sensitive and responsive and when he asked what that was, it came out as a moan.

Q smacked the leather softly against his skin, alternating sides of his back. The suede made a soft, rushing sound and Bond’s skin broke out in goosebumps. He was careful not to get too close to his face or ears, anything that would trigger his defenses. But the delicious sounds he was making made Q want to devour him. He smacked the leather down on his arse a few times for good measure, and tossed the flogger aside.

Q kissed between his shoulder blades, and down his spine. Bond was shivering a bit, and he wanted to keep him from going into too severe of a drop. He leaned to suck at Bond's ear lobe.  
"I hope that wasn't too much," he laid on Bond's back and put his arms around the man.

"It was good..." The agent replied, closing his eyes. He was... Exhausted, but in a very good way. A way that said tonight he would sleep well.

"Do you want to sleep here, or go upstairs?" Q asked with a smile. "You look content."

"Not sure my legs will take me up there... Not sure my eyes will open enough after the blindfold, Sir..." He yawned.

"OK, let's get comfortable down here then," Q unbuckled the cuffs and rubbed Bond's wrists. He took off the blindfold so Bond's eyes could adjust. He rolled off of James so he could pull him into his arms, his arm pillowed under Bond's head.  
"Sleep well, James," he kissed him gently and pulled the blanket around them both.

The agent was asleep before he could respond, breaths deep and slow. Lips slightly parted, he seemed to have shed years and it showed as he slept. Submission... It was emotionally exhausting for a man who was used to living without emotions... But the more he experienced, the more he couldn't let go.

Q watched him sleep with a smile. Bond looked handsome, so relaxed and calm. Q kissed him softly, and let sleep take himself as well.

*******

The next morning found them on the lake, the water crystal clear, reflecting the sky above them. Blue and cloudless, with a distinct chill to the air that promised bad weather in the near future. They had hired a small boat, a yacht, for the day and had brought enough on board for the week. The wind gusted gently, the sun reflected off the water. A tour boat went by, and Bond raised a hand to the children who waved at him. He turned the wheel and lead them out the path of the boat.

Q enjoyed watching Bond in his element, relaxed and competent. He slid his arms around Bond's waist and watched the water over his shoulder.  
"Can I do anything to help, James?"

"Come in front of me... Take the wheel..." James said slowly, leaning back so Q could slip under his arms. The wheel had a pull to the left, the boat wanting to turn into the wind. The vessel had a good motor and could pull her weight with it, but it was nice to be guided by the water and the wind.

Q took the wheel, his hair whipping in his face. The morning was beautiful, the sun sparkling like diamonds on the lake. He could see the cliff where they had watched the sunrise, and leaned back against Bond with a sigh.He loved the feeling of Bond's arms around him, and selfishly wished that it would always be like this. 

Bond watched for a moment then started to instruct, talking Q through how to read the wind, how to feel the sail, feel which way she wanted to go. "You got that? I'm going to have a nap on deck, if you're okay."

"Yes, I will yell if I need you," Q kissed him and shooed him off to rest. He watched the agent sprawl out fondly, and didn't realize he was smiling so broadly as he watched. He hummed an old aria that was running through his head, and enjoyed the warm sun after the days of cold rain.

He watched as James smiled and closed his eyes, stretching out on the deck. His eyes closed as he dropped into a light sleep, and Q knew the moment he was asleep, even before he started to snore.

It was about twenty minutes or so after James dropped off, that the lake began to clear. It was if people knew something that they did not, and it began to make Q a little nervous and he shifted . A boat appeared on the lake, coming towards them hailing them over a loudspeaker. Ordering them to stop and prepare to be bordered. 

The ship, Spray, rocked gently as they were hailed to stop

"James!" Q yelled. "Something is wrong! They aren't police. What do I do? Do I try to outrun them?"


	19. Chapter 19

James sat up slowly, watching them as they approached. "Stay calm, Gabriel..." He said as he rolled to his feet and moved to the wheel. The shift in him was immediate, from man into a predator. 

"OK," Q took a deep breath and tried not to panic, despite his pounding heart. "Please James, if they are going to get me, shoot me first."

"They won't…” They agent said in what was hopefully a soothing tone. “Go down to the cabin, my gun is hanging on the banister..." He hadn't been wearing the gun. Why hadn't he been wearing the gun? Because he was far too relaxed around Q. He cursed himself for letting his guard down too much.

"Bring it up discreetly..."

Then he turned to the so called police and started jabbering at them in very fluent French.

Q ran to grab the gun and wrapped it in his cardigan. He brought it back up and wrapped the sweater around Bond's shoulders, making sure he put the Walther on the correct side.  
"Here, Love," he gave Bond a loud kiss. "I don't want you to get cold, darling."

Bond resisted the urge to smirk. "Clever boy..." He commented under his breath, and slipped it on. "They're going to attempt to board us. I want you to, when I say, get down and stay down. Yeah?"

"Yes love, I'm warm enough," Q said loudly, pressing against Bond for a moment, seeking comfort in that warm embrace. He backed up, a butcher knife from the cabin in his back pocket, and some smaller utility knives in his jacket. He would rather die than let them take him… but he was sure as hell not going to let them hurt Bond.

Bond allowed the boat to come to a shuddering stop. He folded his arms and scowled at the men, looking irritable, rather than dangerous. Someone approached to lash the boats together and someone else was already throwing a leg over to climb aboard. 

Bond reacted.

He spun the wheel, dropped the sail and flicked on the engine, spraying the boarding boat with a deluge of water, and there was a scream as someone dropped between the boats. 

Q dropped to the deck, a knife in each hand. He had a second where he felt like he was going to be sick, he was so scared. But he took a deep breath. James was there to protect him. And it was just like when he was on the other end of the comms. He had to have Bond's back, and bring him home to London safe.

He could do this. 

He could protect the man he loved. 

The boat was off, flying across the water as the other turned to follow, recovering a little. James handled the boat like it was an extension of himself, a lean and easy grace in every movement. He made it look easy, and threw a wink at Q. 

The Quartermaster rolled his eyes.  
“Pay attention to the water, Bond,” he shouted and was rewarded with a grin. The man was having fun!

Bond glanced at Q, his... Lover. His Dominant and for one ridiculous moment, felt the insane urge to laugh. James Bond was submitting to weedy, skinny Q, letting him blindfold him… and last night… what had that been? A flogger? His thoughts were cut off at the telltale bark of automatic gunfire and the plastic chair behind him shattered. White plastic shards flew everywhere. 

Bond shifted the boat and the bullets tore through the mast, causing it to topple. 

Bond gripped the wheel and adjusted his stance… for a moment, he thought that they would capsize… The boat lurched and then with a scream of twisting metal, it fell away into the depths. 

“Get down!” Bond roared at Q as the weight of the mast tore ropes free from across the boat. They pinged, almost alive in motion, ripping away the shackle as it went.

Q rolled to the other side of the deck to avoid the shots and the flying plastic. He pulled the buckles of his life vest tighter and watched Bond closely for any signals. The last one had been get down… he was more than happy to stay down.

"Destroying my bloody boat," Bond muttered as he engaged the throttle and they started to speed. The loss of the mast had given them an advantage, an opportunity to try and get out of this alive. 

Bond spotted the crowds on shore and took a gamble, aiming for them. 

“What are you doing?” Q heard himself scream, his heart hammering in his chest. 

The agent ignore him and at the last moment, turned the wheel, and cut along the shore. The Spray was true to her name and the onlookers got soaked.

The other boat gave chase, but as the Spray approached the shore line, they stopped firing in. There were too be no civilian casualties in this mess… how were they supposed to know that the one that they sought had a double-oh with him?

Bond circled around with the boat, and headed back out into the lake again, where the water was deep and he could manoeuvre the yacht with ease. His blue eyes darted back and forth, looking for a way out, for a weapon… He spotted one of the tiny islands or rock that jutted up from the choppy surface and a savage grin took his face. He turned and the boat seemed to lurch towards it, cutting into the wind. He headed straight for it and then at the last moment, he spun the wheel starboard… the boat seemed to rear from under them. Bond fell back next to Q, but the keel did not touch the rocks. 

The other boat was not so lucky. They didn't see the rocks too late and the pursuing boat rose up, the keel got torn away and it shattered into the trees.

Q hauled himself to his feet and held on tight to the railing. This was a hell of a first boat ride, and he was quite content to never go on number two if they made it off of this one alive. No one ever said life with a 00 agent was dull. 

James leaned back and looked at Q. The grin that crossed his face was fierce, triumphant and cut short as he spotted another two powerboats moving towards them. 

Bond swore and Q blinked until he realized why James was scrambling up and darting back to the weal, getting them away from the rocks. 

“James…” Q’s voice had a worried lilt, as he watched one of the boats get alongside them… and someone jumped across, a Desert Eagle in hand. “James! Look out!” He all but shrieked. 

"Take the wheel," James shouted back, dropping it to duck and then charge at the man, taking them both over the edge and into the water with a splash.

Q grabbed the wheel and tried not to panic. He kept repeating to himself the instructions that James had given him. He tried not to imagine the worst as he lost sight of James. “Come on… Come on…” 

James sunk under the water with the man, one arm around his neck. He could hear the  
motorboat in the background but he held on, gripping tight. His lungs burned, screamed for air and after what felt like an eternity, the man went limp. James kicked up, and broke through the surface.

Q threw the life preserver to James as he swung the boat around and held on to the rope with one hand while he tried to keep the boat steady. He watched James climb back on board with relief and straightened the boat out again. 

James flopped back into the deck and rolled on to his back, the waters seeping out of his clothes. It spread into a large pool of grey disgusting water. "Any more of them?" Bond asked once he had his breath back.

The agent sat up slowly, glancing around. The water was silent and when he heard the pair of powerful boat engines, he was up and running towards Q before the chatter of gunfire told him what his instincts screamed and. He dived and knocked Q down into the footwell. 

Q lost his breath as James landed on top of him. He heard the shots, and the engine, but all he couldn't see with his glasses knocked off. He tried to find them frantically before they got broken.

James rolled out the way, and in doing so, thrust the glasses towards Q's outstretched hand. He rolled into his knees and grabbed Q's hand. "Get below deck. Find rope, matches and a knife an turn the gas cooker on! Don’t light it!" the agent shouted as he went for the wheel again.

Q handed the chef's knife off to Bond, and scrambled for the stairs as fast as he could. The boat was flopping from side to side and the entire contents of the kitchen were on the floor. He trampled across broken china but eventually he found two lengths of rope, matches, and a lighter for the heater that might be useful. He was halfway back up when he remembered the gas. 

Gas went bang… Q swallowed and turned on the stoves without lighting. The hiss of escaping gas filled his senses and he scarpered. 

He ran back up on deck, and looked for James.

James gestured him over. There were two boats now, both staying out of reach. Bond pointed ahead.

"See that island? Bring us around and then aim between the two boats." he said and handed the wheel to Q. Q turned the boat as steadily as he could.

"James, be careful," he warned as he set the throttle to pass between the two boats. "Remember, you have a home to come back to now." He winked. It was shaky but he was trying to be strong for Bond.

James grinned at that, and his eyes darkened. Adrenaline and lust... the two weren't so far apart. He tossed rope to the boy before he slammed the button and the engine hatch opened.

"Tie the wheel to keep it straight," he ordered and leaned onto the compartment. There was the sound of cutting, and then a rush of fluid, the smell of petrol in the air. James stood with the tube and the clear fluid rushed and spilled into the boat, sloshing over the surface. The smell of chemicals and gas filled their lungs.

Q tied the rope several times to keep it steady, and laughed that the knots were the same as shibari. He would have to remember to tell James.

"Are there supposed to be flames?" He yelled.

James didn't answer as he carefully let the match drop to where the fuel would touch it. He turned and ran, grabbing Q by the scruff and jumped off the back of the boat, hauling them both off and into the water with a very cold splash. He thought he heard Q screaming, but his blood pumped through his ears and they sunk down, he kept hold of him though and carefully tugged him to the surface. The boat was very much on fire as it passed between them… and just beyond them, the flames touched the gas and it exploded. Cries from the other boats drifted from his ears… and then they went up in similar fire balls. 

The trio of explosions would be heard across the lake. 

Bond chuckled, a dark sound before looking at Q. The fire was reflected in his eyes, wild and dangerous. Bond was as untamable as those flames. 

"You okay?"

"Yes," Q's eyes were wide, and his hands shook from the adrenaline. "I'm good," he smiled. "Never a dull moment with you, although I suppose these are all my fault." He started swimming for the shore. "Are there anymore of them we need to worry about, or does that take care of it?"

James let him go but stayed close. A grounding presence, that kind of life and death situation could affect people strangely. “As far as I can tell, there are no others… but I don’t want to risk going back to the cottage. We are going to get on the first train to a big town, find a change of clothes and go back to London,” he said as he started to breaststroke to shore although he came to a stop when Q did and grabbed him before he sank under the water.

"My book! James, I can't leave it, please? I will go get it, you don't have to come," Q's eyes welled up with tears. "It's the only thing I have left from Z."

James trod water and turned to him. With a sigh, he nodded slowly. “I’ll get it, I want you to stay in town and in public though. You can get the tickets and find clothes, while I go for the book, okay?”

"Ok, just... be careful James, please? I want to be able to show you my closet when we get back to London. Race you!" He winked at James and took off swimming for shore as fast as he could.

James beat him with ease and stopping, only to pull Q out the water and spend a moment kissing him senseless. Slow lazy kisses, hot sensual kisses… A thousand and one unnamed and untamed emotions were in those sweet kisses before James broke away. 

He watched as James stalked between the trees… as graceful as a panther. 

“I love you,” he whispered to the shadow and the lingering scent of sweat, gunpowder and musk. With that, he turned and walked into the town, leaving a trail of wet footprints as he did…

On the other side of the lake…

With a snarl of disgust, the sergeant flicked the end of the of his cigarette into the water, adding to the pollution that seemed to well up onto the edge of the lake. It seemed right at home with the feathers and the coke bottles that bobbed there. 

Grey eyes looked up again at the fireball. 

Incompetent, useless… A double-oh agent and a tech, how hard could it be to capture the boy and kill the agent?

Another snarl left his lips, and he turned, stalking back to the jeep that waited for him. The targets weren’t dead… No, he knew who they were, he had been watching the cottage for a long time… It was a shame he did not take photos of what he saw through those windows…

But they would not stay. The sergeant knew where they would go, and he could not pick them up until then. 

007 was going back to London. 

The Sergeant grinned a sadistic grin.

He would make James Bond kneel for him, and then he would shoot him while Gabriel watched. 

TO BE CONTINUED


	20. continued....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> link for part 2

You can also now read the sequel:  
The Thin Line Between the Dark Side and the Light

http://archiveofourown.org/works/4453718


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